


Welcome to the New Age

by NyxEtoile



Series: Tales From the Tower [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Avengers, Established Relationship, F/M, Girl Power, Humor, Kidnapping, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/>
</p><p>Sequel to <i>My Scars, They Are Your Scars</i></p><hr/><p>
  <i>Half an hour later, as Amanda walked him out to the beach to meet his ride, James was still apologizing. "I know you were looking forward to this weekend."</i>
</p><p><i>"It's really all right," she told him for probably the tenth time. "Risks of dating a superhero, right?" They could see the jet coming in for a landing and stopped where they were to watch the descent.</i> </p><p>
  <i>"Rain check, okay?" he said.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"For hot hotel sex? You're on." Amanda caught his face in her hands and kissed him hard a moment. "I love you. Go save the world."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>His grin was rather sheepish. The jet's engines revved a little and she imagined if they had a horn they'd be beeping it now. James gave her one last fast kiss and jogged over to the jet, climbing the gangplank. He stopped at the top to wave and she waved back before the hatch closed up. And she wondered, as she often did, if this was the last time she'd ever see him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Amanda and James are back! This is a direct sequel to Scars, so I do strongly recommend reading that first so you know who these people are.
> 
> This was written entirely before I saw Ultron and is, obviously, non compliant. I don't know that I need to say that at this point, but just in case.
> 
> While we have tried in the past to keep these solo fics separate from each other, this one begins what Olives and I think of as our "Phase Two" which will see a lot more overlap between stories. Just wanted to warn you ahead of time. The team is closer than they have been and what happens to one effects the others. I will note in Chapter notes where scenes interact.
> 
> Title comes from the song Radioactive, by Imagine Dragons.
> 
> This is my 30th posted fic on this site, but only my 23rd Marvel fic.

_The Hamptons, New York, July, 2016_

Amanda Newbury had been a bridesmaid nine times. Nine childhood friends, fellow med students, and coworkers for whom she had worn fancy dresses of all shapes and colors. After the last one she had sworn off any more. She was getting dangerously closer to “always a bridesmaid” territory.

Of course, when your in-remission baby sister calls you up and tells you she’s getting married in a month and won’t you please wear this custom dress designed by her future husband, you say yes. So she’d been bridesmaid number ten, standing on a beach in the Hamptons on a bright July day, and watched Jessie get married. James had been in the audience, in a brand new suit. And as lovely as Jess had looked, Amanda had, admittedly, been distracted by her handsome sniper.

Now she lounged on his arm, watching the newlyweds share their first dance and for that one moment, everything was perfect.

James seemed to agree, because he pressed a kiss into her hair and murmured, “I love you.”

She hummed in pleasure and turned her face into his arm. “I love you, back.” She leaned back to look at him. “She was a beautiful bride.”

He nodded, still watching the dancing thoughtfully. “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

“Ever in my life?”

Now he turned to give her a glare. “Recently.”

“ _Oh_ you mean to you.” She rested her head on his shoulder again. “I like living with you. I like being with you. I see no reason to stop being together.” She paused. “Yeah, I suppose I’ve thought about it.”

She could feel him looking at her. “What have you thought?”

She smirked. “That I need to give it some more thought.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest and he kissed her hair again. “Pain in the ass.”

After Jessie and her husband finished their twirl around the floor, they did the parent dances and opened the floor up to the rest of the guests. James shifted beneath her and held out a hand, cocking a brow.

She shook her head, holding up her hands. "Oh no. I don't dance."

"Don't turn this into some stupid chick flick thing where I have to coax you out there and we stun everyone speechless. It's your sister's wedding, dance with me."

Later, she was going to explore who, exactly, had been showing him chick flicks. For now, she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. He lead her out onto the floor and wrapped his right arm around her waist, curling metal fingers around her hand as they started to sway. 

His shoulder was firm and warm under her hand and she let her fingers wander a little to tangle in the ends of his hair. He still wore it a bit long, but slicked it back when they went somewhere nice. In the suit it gave him a vaguely old-school mobster vibe, which was probably not what he was going for. She found it hot regardless.

In her heels she was actually a little taller than him, but when he leaned in she could rest her cheek on his and feel totally enveloped by him. "This is nice," she admitted softly.

He chuckled a little, the sound rumbling in his chest and into hers. "I love you," he murmured, squeezing her waist a little.

She heard those words several times a day now, but she was never, ever going to grow tired of them. Of the way they made her feel. Safe and warm and at home. For so long she thought she'd missed her chance at this.

Maybe she should start thinking about weddings and white dresses.

Shifting so her mouth brushed his ear when she spoke, she whispered, "Let's not wait for the cake cutting."

The groan he gave rumbled even more than the laugh had. He leaned back a little and kissed her, deep enough to curl her toes and tighten her hand on his cybernetic one.

Ten minutes later they were in their room at the hotel. If her sister got mad they'd ditched the reception early she'd deal with it later. For now, she was quite determined to get James out of his suit as fast as humanly possible.

"I really like this dress," he murmured into her shoulder, easing the zipper down. "I thought bridesmaid dresses were always hideous things you could rip off a girl."

"Seriously, _who_ is showing you this stuff?" He shrugged and she went back to the buttons of his vest. "If you wanted horrible bridesmaid dresses you should have known me in my twenties."

"Are there pictures? I want to see pictures." He'd eased the dress down and was now kissing down her neck, so whatever response she might have given scattered with the rest of her thoughts.

In his jacket pocket, his phone started to play the Darth Vader march, his ringtone for headquarters. "Ignore it," he muttered into her skin, deftly undoing her bra.

She couldn’t agree more, as she had finally beaten the vest and had half of the shirt buttons undone. She flattened her palms on his chest, stroking the hard muscle and he lifted his head to catch her mouth in a searing kiss.

The phone began to ring again and this time he chose to ignore it by undoing his fly and letting his pants drop. Music continued to play as he backed her up to the bed and pressed her down onto it.

She had tossed her handbag onto the bed when they'd come in and it now lay a few inches from her head. So when a siren noise came from the little clutch she jumped a foot. "That's an emergency text," she said apologetically. "I have to answer it." She wasn't supposed to be on call this weekend, but emergencies did happen.

Rolling to her side she dug the phone out of the purse and James continued dropping kisses on her skin in random places. The words on the screen read simply _Tell Barnes to answer his damn phone._

Amanda sighed and held up the phone where he could see, dropping her head into the bedspread. James let out a curse just as the Imperial March began to play again.

Half an hour later, as she walked him out to the beach to meet his ride, James was still apologizing. "I know you were looking forward to this weekend."

"It's really all right," she told him for probably the tenth time. "Risks of dating a superhero, right?" They could see the jet coming in for a landing and stopped where they were to watch the descent. "If you don't go save the world then my sister's honeymoon is ruined and I'll never hear the end of it."

He laughed a little and leaned over to kiss her. She had to admit, she liked the battle gear almost as much as the suit. "Rain check, okay?" he said when they parted.

"For hot hotel sex? You're on." The jet landed and the back hatch opened for him to get in. Amanda caught his face in her hands and kissed him hard a moment. "Be safe. I'll see you at home."

"You'll be okay driving alone?" Only James would hold up the Avengers to fuss over her. Of course she had only had her new license a few months.

"I will take plenty of breaks and keep the radio on loud," she promised. "It's a short trip back to the city. I'll be fine. I love you. Go save the world."

His grin was rather sheepish. The jet's engines revved a little and she imagined if they had a horn they'd be beeping it now. James gave her one last fast kiss and jogged over to the jet, climbing the gangplank. He stopped at the top to wave and she waved back before the hatch closed up. And she wondered, as she often did, if this was the last time she'd ever see him.

*

There were few things in life Bucky Barnes hated more than missions in the jungle. A mission in the jungle that turned out to be bad intel and, essentially, purposeless, turned out to be one of them.

“Look, we’re really sorry we called you away from the wedding,” Stark said for the fifth time as Barton wove the jet through the New York skyline. 

“Sorry doesn’t get me a night in the Hamptons,” Bucky told him. He was running on no sleep and hadn’t eaten since the frankly skimpy wedding dinner the day before. He was in no mood to be placated.

To his surprise, Stark snorted. “Well, if that’s all you want borrow my place.”

Of course he had a place in the Hamptons. Why wouldn’t he? “Seriously?”

“Sure. Anytime you like. It’s open all summer. There’s a pool, bring a suit. Or don’t, whatever cranks your gear.”

Next to him, Steve groaned and Natasha shook her head at the innuendo. Bucky decided not to rise to the bait. “See, that makes up for it.”

“I aim to please.”

Bucky considered texting Amanda to tell her he’d managed to arrange a do-over but decided not to bother. They were about to land and odds were better than good she’d be waiting on the Wife Line for him. He could tell her then.

The landing was as smooth as always - Barton was an impressive pilot - and pretty soon they were disembarking into the hanger at Avengers’ Tower. The Wife Line was manned, but Amanda was nowhere to be seen. Pepper Potts was there, as usual, managing to look elegant and put together despite being visibly pregnant. Next to her was Maria Hill, which was odd. She never met the plane unless there was a problem.

Stark went to hug Pepper and stopped before he reached her, something in her expression obviously worrying him. “What is it?” he asked and the rest of them all stopped in their tracks to find out.

To his surprise, Hill looked past Stark at him. “Barnes.”

That was all she said. All she needed to say. Blood roared in his ears, louder than the jet engines cooling down behind him. He swallowed in a vain attempt to unclog his throat and said, “Amanda?” Hill nodded silently and he forced himself to ask. “What happened?”

“She was driving back from the wedding in the car you two borrowed. There’s a GPS installed that reports back to JARVIS in the event of an accident.” Bucky felt Steve put a hand on his shoulder as Hill continued, “About an hour ago, Amanda’s car pinged. It was in a head on crash. Local law enforcement is on the scene. They say it ran off the road and into a tree.”

Steve’s hand tightened and when it became obvious Bucky couldn’t speak he spoke for him. “How is Amanda?”

Pepper spoke for the first time. “She wasn’t found at the scene. Her cell phone if offline but was also not found with the car.”

“Are you saying she was taken?” That was Natasha from somewhere behind him.

“Law enforcement is investigating-”

“I need to be there,” Bucky said finally, though he didn’t recognize his own voice.

Hill’s eyes were sympathetic. “We’ve sent a team of agents up there, they’ll report back whatever they find.”

“I need to see it myself,” Bucky repeated, suddenly sure of himself. “They don’t know her like I do. If she was being- If someone tried to take her she’d fight. Or she’d try to leave me a clue. They won’t necessarily find it, not like I will.”

“I don’t think-”

“I’ll take you.”

Bucky glanced behind him to see Barton, face impassive. The archer gestured to the jet they’d just gotten off of. “JARVIS sent the coordinates to the cock pit. We’ve got enough gas to make it.”

“And Barton steals another plane,” Hill muttered.

“Has a sort of symmetry to it,” Nat added, smiling at Barton.

“It’s not stealing,” Stark said immediately. “I’m giving it to them. Barton, take him where he needs to go.”

“I’m coming with you,” Steve added, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder again.

“Me, too.” That was Nat, already headed back to the jet.

Their easy and immediate support helped steady him further. He even managed a smile at Steve as they turned around as well. He had been alone for so long. Purposely isolated and kept separate. Despite being an active Avenger for a year or more he was still getting used to being a member of a team. To have people he could count on, on and off mission. It shouldn’t surprise him that they’d all volunteered to come. He’d have done the same for any of them.

The other agents had arrived by the time Barton set the jet down in the middle of the Long Island Expressway. It was a long, straight stretch of the road flanked by trees on one side and a golf and country club on the other. The cops and agents and blocked off enough lanes that they could land, but anyone less than Barton would have flubbed it.

Steve went over to talk to the agents and find out what they had learned from the local cops. Barton walked the stretch of road, doing his big picture scan. And Bucky headed down into the drainage ditch, then to the tree line beyond, Natasha on his heels.

The dark blue Lexus sedan they had driven up to the wedding on Thursday was now wrapped around a tree. The airbags were deployed and had since deflated and the driver’s door hung open.

Bucky stopped a few feet away, taking in the scene and Natasha moved past him, circling the car. She tugged the passenger door open just as he forced his feet to move again and peer in the open driver door.

The inside was remarkably undamaged, given how bad the outside looked. The seatbelt was unhooked, meaning Amanda - or whoever had taken her - had been able to unfasten it. If he was dragging an unconscious woman out of a wrecked car he’d probably cut the seatbelt, so maybe she’d done it herself. 

He crouched, checking under the seat and in the foot well and found a few smears of blood on the underside of the dash. She’d been bleeding, but barely.

“The first aid kit is gone,” Natasha said. “From the glove compartment,” she added when he looked up at her.

More hope Amanda had been awake and moving under her own power. He leaned out of the car. Right, if she’d just had an accident then she’d have gone to the road and signaled a driver, tried to call for help. If she was running from someone. . .

He scanned the tree line, spotted a few low branches that had been recently broken and bent and headed for them, Nat once again trailing.

“Her leg was probably hurt,” he said, needing to hear his own voice. “There was blood. So she’d be limping, not running.”

“Would explain all the broken underbrush. She couldn’t sneak.”

There was quite an obvious trail, more than Amanda could have made alone, even hurt. 

A few meters in, they found the discarded first aid kit. Nat crouched and went though it. “Ace bandage missing, plus the anti-infammatories, some gauze and ice pack.” She paused. “And the scissors. Looks like most of the wound care is still here.”

Bucky had the sudden image of Amanda in another patch of woods, in Romania, determinedly patching up a wound in his leg despite broken fingers. Eyeing the brush nearby he picked up her path again and trudged on. 

He was just beginning to wonder how much tree line could be left before they hit someone's yard when they butted up against a high stone wall, probably designed to keep traffic noise out as much as trespassers or animals. The trail ended at the foot of the wall, in a wide patch of flattened grass stained with blood.

Suddenly light headed, he crouched at the edge of the bloodstain and studied it. It had saturated the ground in several places, turning the earth to mud. Nat brushed her fingers over the top of his head in reassurance and circled the flattened grass. Bucky concentrated on breathing. Slow, in through the nose, hold for four seconds, our through the mouth. Repeat.

"It might not be hers," Nat said finally. He looked up at her sharply and she pointed to the ground. "Someone sat here, back against the wall. There's some fabric caught on the rough stone. They dug a foot in here-" She pointed to a divot in the ground. "Whoever was bleeding fell there. So if she's hurt, she leans here to catch her breath, figure out her next step, and whoever was following her catches her. She took the scissors out of the first aid kit. Stabs the closest one but the others over power her."

Bucky glanced around swiftly, seeing the story Nat painted. It might be false hope, but it was hope. It was enough to settle his stomach and his nerves so that he could focus properly. And when he did focus he saw something in the brush that didn't belong. 

Walking over, he reached into a tangle of roots and pulled out a phone in a bright red case. "This is hers." He hit the button but nothing happened. "Battery's dead. But she tends to let them go low. She'd have been charging it in the car, though."

Nat had come over to study it. "Maybe she had something running that drained it?"

The realization struck him so suddenly he was surprised an actual lightbulb didn't go off over his head. "Like the video recorder."

A few minutes later they were back in the jet, the four of them huddled around a display while Nat pulled the most recent video off the phone. Steve put a hand on his arm. "Are you sure you want to see this?"

"She's not dead," he said, with far more conviction than he felt.

An image appeared in the display. Nat started the video and for a moment they could see nothing but greenery and a hand as Amanda settled the phone in the nook she'd propped it in. Then she scooted back, leaning on the wall, panting. She had a lumpy ACE bandage wrapped around her right knee, probably holding the ice pack to the joint. A small square of gauze was taped to her forehead, already turning red.

She stiffened suddenly, focusing on someone who had apparently found her, but wasn't in view of the camera. There was a murmuring noise, and Amanda's mouth moved in response but the phone's mic hadn't picked up any intelligible words.

“Can you do anything about the sound?” Steve asked Natasha.

She shook her head. “Maybe when we get to the Tower.” She glanced to her side. “Clint, can you make it out?”

“She said, ‘You have me at a disadvantage,’” the archer replied, staring at the video intently.

Of course he could read lips. Man who spent that much time staring through scopes was going to pick up a trick or two.

There was more murmuring from the unseen man, which made Amanda laugh a little and say something that Barton translated as “Not interested in leaving my current employer.”

Bucky was distracted by her right hand. It was fisted at her side, fidgeting with something hidden against her palm. 

Amanda said something else but Barton couldn’t read it clearly. Then a man stepped into view, dressed in black combat gear. He had a side arm in a hip holster but didn’t draw it as he neared her. When his foot reached hers she dug in with her heel, lurched forward and stabbed whatever she was holding into the man’s thigh. His mouth opened in a shout and he toppled.

She yanked out her weapon - which Bucky could now see was scissors - and blood gushed in its wake. She drove it into his throat and left it there, scrabbling for his pistol. Two other men rushed into frame grabbing for her arms before she could reach the gun. A third stepped into frame. He was dressed in a suit, the pant legs spattered in mud. Bucky knew instinctively this was the one who had been talking to her. He lifted one expensive leather shoe and slammed it into Amanda’s injured knee as she struggled with the others.

Her scream was loud and shrill enough for the phone to pick up clearly. Bucky flinched at the sound. She sagged limply between the two men as they hauled her up to her feet. Suit stepped forward and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His mouth moved and he smiled.

“‘They told me you’d be difficult,’” Barton said, voice tight and clipped. “‘That will make this more fun.’”

As they dragged her away there was a clear shot of the emblem on one of their uniforms, a octopus head with several tentacles.

Hydra. The people who had cut off his arm, who had tortured him for decades. They kept shutting down cells and more kept popping up, like their damned slogan.

 

And now they had Amanda.


	2. Chapter 2

Amanda wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting at the cheap table in the featureless room. She’d woken up there after being put in an SUV on the Long Island Expressway and drugged with something remarkably potent. No one had come in to threaten her or feed her or even check if she was alive.

It kind of reminded her of an old text based game she played in high school. You are in a room with no windows and one door. What would you like to do?

Unfortunately, get the fuck out of here kept getting her an error message.

Oh, detaching from her predicament was probably a bad sign. Hysteria mixed with shock. It messed with your head.

Christ, her knee hurt. She’d managed to probe it a bit when she first woke up, while the last of the drugs they gave her were still dulling the pain a little. It was dislocated, badly. No way to tell if anything was torn or broken. They’d left on the makeshift brace she’d rigged up in the woods, might have actually fixed it a little, since Mr. Charming in a Suit had knocked it even further out of alignment during negotiations.

The door opened with a soft sound and said negotiator himself appeared and sank into the chair opposite her at the table. “Dr. Newbury,” he said pleasantly. He had an accent of some sort, one she couldn’t place, it was too faded. He was probably a decade or so older than her, with a smug smile and buffed nails. She really didn’t like him.

“Where am I?” she asked and winced a little at the hoarseness of her voice. That last scream in the woods had been a good one.

“A facility. A Hydra facility. How is your knee?”

“Excruciating.” She saw no reason to be coy about it.

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that.” He moved a hand beneath the table as if he might touch her knee and she flinched back instinctively. That made the smug smile widen. “We can have our doctors look at it, if you like?”

“I’d rather be crippled, thanks.”

He shook his head slowly. “So brave. I suppose you think the Avengers are coming to help you? With your pet assassin leading the charge? I’m afraid you’ll be waiting a long time. As far as they’ll be able to tell you simply. . . disappeared.” He gave a little elegant gesture with his fingers. “How much effort do you think they’ll put into tracking down a civilian doctor, really?”

She was fairly certain James would spend the rest of his considerable lifespan looking for her. He would almost certainly find the phone she’d left behind. She didn’t say that, though. “If I’m important enough for you to kidnap, I’m guessing I’m important enough to find.”

Her response made the smile fade a little, which pleased her inordinately. “I suppose you make a good point. Tell me, do you have any idea why we took you?”

“I imagine you want my super soldier serum.” She saw she’d surprised him and let her own smile come out. “You just told me no one was coming to rescue me, so I’m not bait. It’s no secret what my research is about. You’re Hydra. What else would you want me for?”

“Your file said you were very intelligent.”

“And difficult?” she asked, mocking his intonations a little.

“Yes. I read your file thoroughly, you know. It’s why we went to such lengths to get you isolated and alone. And even I didn’t expect you to kill one of my men. I was surprised, Doctor Newbury, and I am rarely surprised.”

She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “This is where I try to convince you I’m far more trouble than I’m worth and you should let me go.”

He gave a little mirthless laugh. “No, my dear. This is where I threaten you into helping us.”

So much for pleasantries. She tightened her hands on each other and didn’t respond.

One of his long fingers gestured at her hands. This time she didn’t flinch. “You’re a surgeon, are you not? Kept your skills up despite your focus turning to research. Effort like that indicates you enjoy it. That there is some. . . love of the craft in you. How well do you think you’ll cut with some of your fingers missing?”

The thought soured her stomach, from the loss of being a surgeon as much as the idea of the pain involved. The knee would probably seem like a cakewalk if they started chopping things off. And the shock would only get worse. And when they ran out of fingers, what would come next?

Voice level, she said, “They do marvelous things with cybernetics now.”

He smiled, as if she’d responded exactly how he had expected. “I told them - my superiors - I told them you were not weak. But even the strongest people have soft spots, Doctor Newbury. I believe yours are your loved ones.”

She returned his smile with a brittle one of her own. “Please tell me you’re about to threaten Sergeant Barnes. I need a good laugh.”

“Your sister was just married, was she not?”

Ice flowed through Amanda’s veins, replacing her blood, numbing the pain in her knee. It roared in her ears like ocean waves, all but drowning out his next words. 

“She’s on a plane to her honeymoon right now. A month in Australia, isn’t it? So many things that can go wrong on vacation. So many things on the continent that can kill you. Some in seconds.” He shook his head. “So tragic. And after she so recently beat cancer. How do you think your father will take it? A shock like that, coming so soon after your disappearance. How long do you think it will take him to crawl back into a bottle with two of this three daughters gone?”

She focused in her breathing, in slowly, hold it for a count of four, then out again. It was something James had taught her, what he used when he was sniping. Hate threatened to push her into irrational behavior. The breathing brought calm with it, sharp focus. It didn’t rid her of the hate, but tempered it. Made it work for her. 

“When James and the others come for me, I am going to personally put a bullet in your brain,” she told the man in the suit, tone almost pleasant. Before he could reply, she added, “Show me your lab.”

*

“Buck? Hey, man, you have to eat.”

Bucky heard Steve - had heard him the last two times he’d called - but still couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge him

Three days. Amanda had been gone for three days. After the first night in their empty bed he had packed a bag and his dog and moved into Steve’s spare room. Nat and the other ladies had agreed to pop in and feed Amanda’s cats, but Panzer wouldn’t eat for anyone but him and Amanda. Though in another day or two he might prefer Barton to his all but catatonic master.

He couldn’t sleep. Not for more that an hour at a time. Nightmares tore at him, jolted him awake, sick and sweating. He was back in Hydra’s control, being wiped. Only now on a table next to him, there was Amanda, screaming the way she had on the video. Every time he tried to rip out of his restraints to help her. And every time he failed, waking up to the sound of her cries.

Months ago, before they’d been anything more than odd friends, he’d shown up at Amanda’s door, unable to sleep and she made him hot chocolate and lectured him on how long someone could go without sleep. And then she’d tucked him into her bed and slept beside him. As long as he had her near, the dreams stopped and he could sleep. If this went on much longer Tiffani, Amanda’s nurse, had offered - well, threatened - to give him a sedative. Maybe he should take her up on it.

Steve put a plate of pasta next to his elbow and glared. “Eat or I won’t update you.”

As defiantly as possible, Bucky twirled some noodles around the fork and shoved it his mouth, then looked at his friend expectantly. Steve sighed and sank into the chair across from him, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs.

Bucky had stopped attending the meetings. Their lack of progress had grated on him, worse than uncertainty. Every abandoned Hydra facility, every dead end felt like he was letting her down. Every day they didn’t find her was one she was alone among enemies, probably starting to doubt whether they were coming at all.

“We’ve run out of known bases,” Steve said quietly. “The last of the double agents checked in, no one has seen her or heard anything about her being captured. Stark and the techs are now trying to trace down the origin of the lead that got us all down to the jungle.”

Swallowing the last of his bite of pasta, he asked, “Why?”

“We suspect it was a ruse to get you away from her. Her sister’s wedding was pretty common knowledge, they’d have known she was going and bringing you. Get you out of the way and she’s an easier target. They only sent four guys to get her, they knew she was alone.”

That made sense. He didn’t know how it got them any closer to finding her, but maybe it was something. Trace the steps back to the beginning of the op, find the root. It was something. He had to keep believing that.

Idly, he took another bite of the food Steve had prepared. It didn’t taste like anything and he wasn’t hungry, but he’d do her no good if he was too weak to go when they did find her.

“We are going to find her, aren’t we?” he asked quietly, mostly to himself.

“Yes,” Steve answered, with all the rock solid certainty Bucky was missing. “If it takes the rest of our lives. No one is letting this go.”

“Do you - do you think they took her because of me?” Voicing that particular doubt was almost painful, but he needed to let it out.

To his relief, Steve was shaking his head. “If this was about you they’d have contacted us. Offered a trade, demanded ransom. They want her. Based on what we can get out of the video, they probably want what she knows about the serum. Which means as long as they think she has information she’s safe.”

He nodded slowly, poking at his food. “If we can’t find her. . .” Steve opened his mouth to respond and Bucky pressed on anyway. “ _If_ we can’t. I don’t know if I’m going to be okay.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked quietly.

It took a few minutes for him to figure out how to put it into words. “I made peace with my past, with what happened to me, by focusing on my future. Finding a way to be grateful that I had a future. But she was always a part of that future. I don’t know how to be a happy about one without her in it.” He swallowed hard. “I know I’ll still have you. And Panzer. Even the others. . . But I won’t have _her_.”

Steve reached out and touched his shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “We’re gonna find her, Buck. If we have to go through every Hydra agent in the world to do it.”

Bucky tried, with every bit of hope he had left in him, to believe that.

*

At the end of her first week as Hydra’s guest, Amanda was trying to count her blessings. It seemed healthier than being consumed by rage and hatred.

The lab was top notch. Really impressive. The equipment rivaled anything Stark had ever bought her. The computers did calculations almost faster than she could type the information in.

Unfortunately, they weren’t connected to the internet, so her dreams of getting a message out to someone had been dashed.

Blessings. Concentrate on the good things. She had her own room, with a real bed, rather than just being chained in the corner of the lab. That was something, right? And once she’d finally let one of the Nazi doctors look at her knee they had braced it properly and given her prescription strength anti-inflamatories, so the walk at gun point to and from her room and the lab was far less painful than it could have been.

Her lab assistant, a portly man named Wilshire with wire-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes slightly, was a competent, even pleasant man. As far as she could tell, he was in it for the sake of scientific discovery and not world domination. And while they locked them in every morning, at least the armed guards were outside the door and not in.

Really, there was so much to be thankful for.

She glared at her compute screen. A week. Seven days she’d been here. Eight, if one counted the day they’d actually taken her on the road, though she’d spent a lot of that unconscious. If the Avengers had any leads, any hint of where she might be, they would have come to get her by now.

The first two days she’d been on pins and needles, hoping she was somewhere with a SHIELD mole who would be able to sneak her out. No such luck, apparently. She was running out of ways to feed them wrong information on the serum. There would only be so many things she could “forget” before someone caught on and Mr. Suit had to start “negotiating” again.

Wilshire pushed his chair out suddenly, shaking her out of her thoughts. She glanced over at him and found him stretching his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders. He had terrible ergonomic posture when he was on his computer.

He caught her look and offered a smile. “I was going to run down to the break room and get a snack. Do you want anything?”

Sometimes she forgot there were people in this building who had a perfectly normal work routine while she was being held hostage by crazy people with dreams of world domination. She doubted Wilshire wanted to rule the world. So she found herself smiling back. “Maybe something salty? Chips or crackers.”

His smile widened, like he’d expected her to say no. He hopped up. “I’m on it.”

She watched him walk to the door, swipe his card and open it. She caught a glimpse of the guard in the hallway before Wilshire stepped out and closed the door behind him. The lock clanked loudly in the quiet room.

Drawing her gaze back to her computer screen she was suddenly distracted by Wilshire’s desk. He’d left his suit jacket on the back of his chair and something weighty and rectangular was in the left pocket. Something suspiciously cell phone shaped.

Glancing at the door, she eased herself off her chair and limped slowly over to the other desk, careful not to make sound. It wasn’t a phone. Or if it was a phone it would be password protected. Or there would be no signal.

But when she reached into the pocket she came out with a brand new smart phone that lit up when she hit the home button and brought up the main screen without asking for a code.

Wilshire was officially the worst Hydra agent ever.

She stared at the full bars for a few heartbeats, trying to think. Surely they monitored people’s phones? But, then, this was a normal job for most of the people here. She doubted “hostage” was on most people’s resumes. So maybe they didn’t monitor everything. 

And if they did, so what? She was probably dead in a few days anyway. She wasn’t going to give them her serum and they were going to lose patience with her soon. So what was the harm in trying to get a message out? What was the worst that would happen? They’d know she wanted to escape and get the phone numbers of a few Avengers? By all means, track down James by his phone, he probably had a lot of aggression to work out.

Wilshire might get in trouble, but frankly she was willing to risk that. Chips or no chips.

She pulled up the text messages, started a new one and typed in James’s number, then Steve’s and Maria Hill’s since she had them memorized, too. Staring at the door, she tried to think of anyone else’s but came up blank. The only reason she knew Maria’s was that the last four numbers were the same as her address growing up and she’d thought that was funny enough to remember. Three would be enough.

With the numbers entered she pondered her message briefly and typed _It’s Amanda, this phone belongs to an agent assigned to watch me during the day. Don’t reply, but a rescue would be nice._ Then, just in case anyone was concerned it was a trap, she added, _Pain in the ass._

She hit send and looked back and forth from the phone to the door as the little blue bar moved across the top of the screen. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could feel it in her throat. Finally, the phone made a soft noise and a little “delivered” appeared beneath her message. She counted to ten, whispering “Please” over and over under her breath and then deleted the message and the numbers. 

Using the end of her shirt, she wiped off the phone to get rid of any evidence she’d used it, then put it carefully back in the suit pocket. She quickly hobbled back to her seat and concentrated on breathing to calm her heart down.

The door opened a few seconds after she sat and Wilshire held up a small bag of Doritos in triumph. “Will this do?”

Amanda smiled widely and held a hand out for it, pleased to see it didn’t shake at all. “Perfect,” she told him, then added a very sincere, “Thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dimly, Bucky heard his phone buzzing. It had been buzzing for a while now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just kept pounding on the heavy weight punching bag. He’d been spending a lot of time in the gym lately. It was the only time he seemed to be able to turn off his brain and not worry. The trick probably wasn’t going to work much longer, though. Maybe Banner would be willing to let the Big Guy out to go a few rounds.

“Would you answer your goddamned phone?”

The sound of an irritated Maria Hill was enough to get him to turn away from the bag, but only just. “I didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

She strode into the gym, dressed in her professional suit and heels and scooped said phone off the bench he’d tossed it on. She poked at it a moment, then came up to him and shoved it in his face, showing a text message from an unknown number time stamped about an hour ago.

It took several seconds for the words he was reading to really sink in. When it did, he snatched the phone out of her hand to read it a few more times. Relief was so strong it weakened his knees and he staggered a few steps to sit on the bench. “That’s her,” he said quietly.

“You’re sure?” Hill asked, watching him with arms crossed over her chest.

He nodded, feeling oddly shaky. “‘Pain in the ass.’ That’s a joke with us. I call her that.”

“They could have made her tell them something you would recognize.”

Feeling certain of something for the first time in over a week, he look up at Hill. “Amanda is smart enough to give them the wrong words. Say pain in the neck instead, or something.”

Hill nodded, apparently satisfied with that. “Come on, we’re working on getting a location. So far the best we have is somewhere in Virginia.”

He grabbed his towel and water bottle and got up, following her out of the gym. “Somewhere?”

“The phone’s current location is hard to pin down. We got that much by tracking what cell towers the text pinged out on. Our techs think that Hydra’s doing something to mask the phone tracking while it’s in the building. We may have better luck when or if the agent it belongs to leaves the facility.”

Said agent left the location scrambler’s range a few hours later, giving them enough of a location to send in scouts. The facility was a nondescript rectangular office building in the suburbs outside of Lynchburg. It was owned by a shell company based in Sweden, with almost no digital footprint. It hadn’t been on any of their Hydra base watch lists, but the snakes had made a lifestyle out of hiding in plain sight, so that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Surveillance continued overnight and they noted there was far more activity in and out of a building than a normal office space would indicate. Those observations, plus Amanda’s message, was enough to start mission planning.

Bucky was surprised at the crowd he found in the briefing room that afternoon. He had expected Steve, Barton and Romanov. They were the standard team for this kind of op and were all fond of Amanda in one way or another. Stark wasn’t a huge surprise, he enjoyed causing Hydra problems and had taken the kidnapping of one of “his people” kind of personally. Thor was more unexpected, they weren’t expecting any big guns at the facility. And Banner was downright unheard of.

“I have a vested interest in discouraging the continued kidnapping of scientists,” Thor said in response to Bucky’s cocked eyebrow. “And Jane considers the good doctor a friend, which makes her a friend of mine.”

That made him smile and he looked at Banner. “Are you doing medical backup?”

The quiet man shook his head slowly. “We’re going nuclear on this one.”

Bucky’s brows lifted. Before he could press further, Hill came in and stood at the end of the table.

She put her hands on the table and began to speak. “Two thousand years ago a Roman citizen could walk across the face of the known world without fear of violence, cloaked only in the protection of the words _civis Romanus_. ‘I am a Roman citizen.’ So great was the retribution of Rome should any harm come to its citizens. Hydra has gone after one of ours. A civilian. A loved one of a team member. And a doctor. Any one of those would be enough for retribution. Three together means we are going to level this building to ground and salt the earth. So the next time Hydra or Centipede or even fucking Leviathan comes at us we can point to the crater and say ‘This is what happens when you touch one of ours.’”

There was a pause, then Barton said, “That was nice. Did you write that yourself?”

“Stole most of it from a TV show,” she said, turning to the screen behind her and hitting a button to bring up an aerial picture of the Hydra facility. “Everyone, welcome to Operation Romanus. This is our target, a hundred thousand square foot office building. It is flanked by open field on two sides, a frontage road and an empty warehouse facility on the other. Our best estimate on population is two thousand, but that’s very rough. There could be subterranean levels but that’s considered unlikely.”

She clicked the button and the view changed to one from the western side of the building. “Our first priority will be the location of and contact with Dr. Newbury. Preliminary scouts have earmarked here and here as likely areas for her to be working in the building.” Hill pointed to window banks at the two ends of the building. “Aerial sweeps will be done by cloaked quinjets until visual contact is made. Then teams will be dropped off to begin the operation.”

“Barton, you and Barnes will start here, on the empty warehouse. Together you will make contact with Doc. When contact is made, you will rendezvous with extraction team B here at the west entrance. Team B will breach the building and begin making their way to the doctor.

“Extraction team C will be made of Stark, Thor and Banner. You will remain outside the building causing chaos and destruction. Lethal force is approved but don’t go out of your way to chase stragglers.”

“If you kill everyone there’s no one left to tell your legend,” Romanov said dryly.

“Exactly,” Hill agreed. “Ideally, Doc will be mobile and able to meet extraction team A either on the roof or in the open field here. That will be Rhodes in a quinjet and Wilson in his new Falcon armor, assuming it’s done, Stark.”

“He’s trying it on tonight.” Stark sounded defensive.

“Wait a minute,” Bucky interrupted. “I’m not on any of extraction teams?”

Hill shook her head and turned to look at him. “Your role will be distance sniping and coordinating Doc’s position with the team.”

“I want to go in and get her,” he ground out.

“You are not setting foot in a Hydra facility,” Hill said firmly. “You have trigger phrases that could turn you into a liability. To the team and Amanda. You snipe from the roof or you stay here.”

Everything in him told him to go in the building and help. But Hill was right and his desire to see Amanda as soon as possible did not out weigh the goals of the mission. The rest of them would get her out and he’d see her soon enough. He gave a sharp nod that Hill returned before gesturing at the screen again.

“Priority one is to get Doc out of the building and safely on the jet. Once that is accomplished we’re on to priority two, burn and salt the earth. Banner, this means getting out your aggression as much as you like. Thor, light the place up.”

“Has it occurred to anyone there might be innocent people in there?” Steve asked quietly.

“If you’re asking if we know if there’s other prisoners like Newbury, we have no evidence either way. It isn’t exactly their MO, they have their own scientists. If you’re asking me if members of Hydra can be considered innocent I will remind you that ‘I was only following orders’ didn’t fly in World War Two and it sure as shit doesn’t fly now.”

If Steve had any response to that he apparently decided now was not the time to broach it. 

When no one else had any questions or comments Hill turned the screen off and turned to the group again. “Jets leave tomorrow at oh eight hundred.”

*

It had been almost two days since Amanda had sent her message. She had not been confronted by Suit or anyone else pissed about her attempted call for help. Hopefully, that meant the message had gone through. The delay could be for any number of reasons. Missions didn’t get planned overnight. Not to mention tracking Wilshire’s phone to get her location and everything.

At least, that’s what she told herself as the guard walked her from her cell to the lab and closed the door behind her. Wilshire was already there, computer warmed up. He offered her a little smile when she came in and she tried to return it, limping carefully to her seat. She figured she had another day, maybe two, before someone started demanding results from her work. And that was going to be an interesting day.

They worked in silence for the first hour or two. She wondered if Wilshire suspected she was fudging some of her input. If he did and he hadn’t turned her in he was a nicer man than she’d thought. Terrible taste in employers, but nice.

The lights seemed to dim a little and she glanced up at the same moment Wilshire commented, “The weather’s turned ugly fast.”

Amanda looked out the windows to see that storm clouds had gathered. Hope flared in her chest just as something thunked loudly against the window. She and Wilshire both jumped. Instinctively, she turned away from the glass just as whatever was stuck to it exploded, shattering the window.

Before either of them moved an arrow shot through the now missing window and embedded in the wall. Wilshire gaped at it but Amanda leapt to her feet as fast as she could and hobbled over to it. Something was attached to the bottom and when she tugged it off she found it was an earpiece, the kind the team used to talk to each other in the field.

She pressed it until the light came on, then stuck it into her ear, settling it deep so it would pick up her speech. “Hello?”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last forever. Then, “Hey, ‘Manda.”

Relief was too small a word for what she felt then. Relief was for when you made the yellow light before it turned red or passed an exam you forgot to study for. This was something else entirely. This was joy, euphoria. It was the light at the end of a cave in and the word “benign” on a biopsy report.

Sagging against the wall, she said, “ _Jamie_ ,” and it came out almost a sob. She covered her mouth with a hand a moment, resisting the urge to break down into tears. She wasn’t saved just yet. Hysterics could wait.

She took a deep breath and her voice was almost normal when she continued. “You got my message.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice rougher than usual in her ear. “We figured you were gonna just rescue yourself.”

“Well, I’m working with a handicap.”

“Yeah. Can you walk okay?”

Glancing down at her leg, she said, “Honey, if it gets me out of here I can sprint.”

He chuckled. “Well, don’t hurt yourself.” There was a pause. “Who’s your friend?”

She looked over at Wilshire to find a red laser dot in the center of his chest. Something must have shown on her face because he looked down and made a panicked sound, wiping at it with a hand as if it were a spot of ink.

“That’s Wilshire,” Amanda told James. “Don’t shoot him, he’s nice.”

“You sure?” He sounded almost petulant.

“I’m sure. He’s all right.” The red dot disappeared from his chest and he sagged visibly. “That was for the Doritos,” she told him and he smiled thinly.

James was talking again. “If you like him that much you should tell him to get out of the building because it’s going to be kind of on fire as soon as you’re out.”

“Right. Where am I going?”

“Hang on.” There was silence and she waited patiently. Wilshire was staring at her like she’d grown a second head. She smiled and shrugged a little.

Something several floor below them rumbled and shook the building. Wilshire grabbed at the table and she braced on the wall. James came back in her ear. “Right, Steve, Romanov, and Barton are inside and coming up. But if you can get to the roof it would probably be easier on everyone.”

“Wilshire, is there roof access?” she asked, glancing at the door.

“Um.” He cleared his throat a couple times. “South stairs goes all the way up.”

“I can do the roof,” she told James.

“Good. I’ll let them know. Keep me posted on your location.”

“Got it.” She pushed off the wall and went over to Wilshire. “Is there a weapon in here?”

He blinked at her a moment. “What?”

“A weapon. A gun or something hidden away in case I got out of line.”

“No - no, not that I know of.”

Well, that complicated matters a little. “Look, you’ve been nice. I’m getting the hell out of here and then the Avengers are, apparently, burning the place down. I’d get out, too, if I were you. And possibly consider a new line of work.”

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

She actually felt kind of bad for the man. But he knew who he worked for and what they’d done to her. She’d paid back his kindness and then some. 

Time to work on the problem at hand. She was going to need a weapon. She scanned the room and came up empty at first, then smacked herself in the forehead and walked back to the arrow in the wall. It took some muscle, but she dug it out and was pleased to find the tip still fairly pointy.

 She held a hand out to Wilshire. “Pass card.” He hesitated and she arched a brow. That was apparently enough warning for him to hand it over.

“Stand back,” she warned him, heading for the door. If she was lucky, the guard had run off to see what the commotion downstairs. She cocked her head to listen a moment, heard nothing and swiped the card, yanking the door open.

The guard was standing there, as he had every day she’d been there. He turned at the door opening and before he could react she lurched forward and buried the arrow into his throat. He gagged, stumbled back a step and fell.

Amanda stepped out of the lab and crouched awkwardly by the fallen guard. She relieved him of his gun, spare clip and a knife he had strapped to his ankle, then straightened again. 

That brought her death count up to four, she thought, looking down at the man a moment. Maybe she should have retired to the midwest, hung up a shingle somewhere and lived a calm, peaceful life. She could have watched the Avengers and the fall of SHIELD on TV and never had to worry about Hydra or kidnappings or making super soldiers.

But, then, there’d be no James. No lunches with the girls drinking and sharing secrets. No nurses and their ever expanding chart of hotness. Maybe they weren’t a proper trade for the violence and danger. But they were something. They were enough.

She tucked the extra clip into a pocket and the knife into her waist band and pointed herself south. Wilshire had crept out after her and was staring at the guard in horror.

Amanda gave him a little nod as she passed him, hobbling down the hall at a brisk walk. “James? I’m armed and heading for the stairs.”

“That’s my girl.” He sounded quite proud. “How did you get a gun?”

She considered the most efficient way of explaining. “I hope Barton wasn’t planning on getting his arrow back.”

“That’s pretty badass, Doc.” That was Romanov’s voice.

“I take that as high praise from you,” she replied. “I didn’t know we had company on the line.”

“Barnes patched you in,” Stark said. “No sexy talk.”

“Only if you promise not to flirt with your damned AI,” James retorted and Amanda smiled.

Fortunately, there were signs for the south stairs, which she followed down one hallway, then another. The building shuddered again and she grabbed at the wall to steady herself. “Could you refrain from knocking it down until I’m out of it?” she asked.

Stark answered, “Sorry. The Hulk was getting a little enthusiastic.”

Her brows went up. “Banner is here, too?”

“We pulled out all the stops, Doc. Tell Hill to give you her Roman speech when you see her, it’s very moving.”

She had to fight tears back again. She knew it wasn’t entirely about her. They were sending a message to Hydra about taking their people in general. But the fact all of them had come to get her was still oddly touching. She’d known James would come. She’d expected Steve and probably Barton and Nat. The rest of them? That was above and beyond.

Finally, the door to the stairs was in sight. She had her mouth open to update James when a gunshot sounded behind her. Ducking instinctively, she cried out when the sudden motion hurt her knee.

“‘Manda?” James asked, concerned.

“I have company,” she muttered. The shot had bounced harmlessly off the wall in front of her and she turned, gun lifted.

“We’re on our way,” Steve said.

At the other end of the hall Suit was glaring at her, pistol aimed at her head. “This is your doing,” he said, approaching her slowly.

Her aim didn’t waiver. “Stark Enterprises’ employee retention policies are very aggressive,” she told him. “Who’s not important enough to save now?”

“All our work. Our research. Why couldn’t you just cooperate?” His voice raised at the end and she felt a perverse pleasure in having finally rattled the calm veneer.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m _difficult_.” She squeezed the trigger, hitting his right thigh, just above the knee. Her second shot caught him high on the right side, sending him to his knees, gun falling from his hand.

 

Though it hurt, she closed the distance between them and knocked his gun away, sending it skidding down the hallway. “This is the part where I give you some sort of badass message to bring to your superiors. Something about the price of crossing the Avengers loved ones. But I made you a promise the day we met.” Slowly, she let the muzzle of the gun rest on his forehead. “Do you remember?”

“No-!” She clenched her jaw and squeezed the trigger before he could finish.

That made it an even five.

She turned back to the stairs, moving slower than she had before. “I’m at the stairs,” she told the others, yanking the heavy door open.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olives made me a banner! Go back to the first chapter to check it out. And go take a look at chapter one of Scars for the banner for that story.
> 
> Thanks Olives! You're awesome!

Steve announced Amanda was on the jet and Bucky finally let himself breathe easily. He wanted, with every part of him, to be on that jet with her, holding her and reassuring himself she was, in fact, all right. But he trusted Rhodey and the others to get her back to the Tower. They’d have more time, space, and most importantly, privacy there.

 So he stayed with the team, spotting from a distance as they brought the whole building crashing around. People fled in droves, probably more than got caught inside. He spotted the man who’d been with Amanda driving off safely and made a mental note of it in case she asked.

When the building wasn’t much more than a smoldering husk - they took their retribution seriously - he rendezvoused with the others at their jet to head back.

While in the air he was struck with the sudden, irrational thought that they would have mechanical trouble and crash before he ever got to see her. He didn’t voice the paranoia to anyone, though, and soon they were landing cleanly in the Tower’s hanger. When the rear hatch was opened he bolted without a word to the others, heading for the elevator.

JARVIS told him she was in the infirmary, likely getting her knee checked out. He didn’t think even Amanda would be back at work already. His trip to the fortieth floor was possibly the longest elevator ride of his life.

He heard her voice as soon as he stepped into the infirmary and followed it to one of the exam rooms. There, he found her sitting on the exam table with her knee braced and wrapped, talking to Tiffani. She was in one of his t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts, hair damp, so obviously she’d found time to shower and change after she got home.

Amanda noticed him almost immediately and her face split into a grin. “Jamie.” She started struggling like she’d get off the table to come to him, so he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her.

She clutched at him, arms around his shoulders, face buried in his hair. He did the same, inhaling a deep breath of her scent. After a moment, he realized she was crying softly. His eyes weren’t entirely dry, either, so he didn’t comment.

After a few minutes of just holding each other, she leaned back a little to look at him. Her hands moved over him, cupping his face, running over his armor, touching his hand, like she was confirming he was real. She was openly crying and it broke his heart a little. Amanda never cried.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “I gotcha.” He caught her head between his hands and kissed her a moment, before resting his forehead on hers. “I got you,” he repeated. “You’re all right. Are you all right?” She nodded and he glanced at Tiffani. “Is she all right?”

The nurse had been studiously looking everywhere but their reunion. At his question, she looked over. “Her knee was dislocated. They did a decent job bracing it but her running around didn’t do it any favors. It’s re-braced, she needs to stay off it completely for a few days, until the inflammation goes down. Then she can put a little weight on it. Should be back to normal in two to three weeks.”

Bucky nodded and looked back at Amanda. “You hear that? No walking.”

She gave him a watery smile and Tiffani discreetly handed her a tissue to wipe her eyes. “I know. I’ll be good.”

“The cut on her head could have used stitches, but it’s too late now,” the nurse finished. “She’ll have another wicked scar.”

He drew Amanda’s head down to his shoulder and let her sniffle, rubbing her back. “She good to go?” he asked Tiffani.

She nodded. “Rest and relaxation. I’ll come up in a day or two to get her up to date on the serum stuff but I’m banning her from the infirmary till she’s out of the knee brace.”

The fact that Amanda didn’t immediately protest was probably a bad sign. But maybe she was just being realistic about this particular trauma.

“Ready to go home?” he asked her softly. She nodded and he slid his arms under her, scooping her up again his chest.

She laughed a little, swinging her good leg and Tiffani grinned. “Good to have you back, Doc.”

Amanda smiled. “Thank you, Tiffani.”

Bucky nodded to the nurse and carried Amanda out of the infirmary. They didn’t run into anyone on the way back to their apartment, apparently the others were making an effort to give them space.

He carried her all the way to their bedroom and set her down on the bed. Her tears had dried up, but he couldn’t read her expression. 

Gently, he tucked her hair back, away from her face. “You need anything?”

She shook her head. Then she reached out, caught his face in her hands and drew him forward to kiss him. The kiss in the infirmary had been soft and sweet. Almost chaste. This was none of those things. It was the intense, soul-deep kiss of lovers separated by trauma and violence. The kind of kiss sweethearts shared when reunited after war.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, tangling his right hand in her hair. He had had every intention of fussing over her, bringing her tea and a book and maybe a cat to cuddle with. Her wandering hands led him to believe relaxing with a book was not on her agenda.

“‘Manda,” he murmured against her mouth. She was trying to unfasten his body armor and fumbling in her urgency. “Let me get it.” 

She let him brush her hands away. He stood and started the laborious process of getting out of his tac gear. Amanda watched him a moment, then crossed her arms in front of her and gripped the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up and off to reveal she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it.

There was a stripe of ugly, half-healed bruising on the front of her left shoulder and low on her right side. Bucky stopped in the middle of what he was doing, staring at the wounds. “What did they do?” he asked, voice unrecognizable.

Brow furrowed, she looked at him, then down at herself. Then she laughed a little and looked back at him. “Seatbelt. It’s from the seatbelt.”

Letting out a relieved breath, he finished shedding the top half of his gear, then sat on the bed to take his boots off. Amanda scooted forward a little and flattened her hand on his back, fingers tracing little patterns. It was distracting enough that his fingers felt clumsy on the ties of his boots and he cursed a little under his breath, earning him another little laugh from her.

Finally, he tossed the second boot away from him and turned back to her, catching her mouth in a rough kiss. He leaned her back on the bed, carefully moving around her braced leg.

His mouth grazed her jaw and he pressed kisses into her skin. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, sliding his hands over her. “Your leg?”

She nodded, tangling her hands into his hair. “I’m sure. Just be careful with it.” He felt her shift, then her mouth on his shoulder. He braced his metal arm behind her, helping hold her to him, then continued his exploration downward. The scent of her floral lotion filled his nose and he couldn’t help but nuzzle at her, right in the notch of her collar bone, and took a deep breath. Muscles in his back and shoulder relaxed, as if only now realizing she was back.

For a few moments, they stayed just like that, wrapped around each other, holding on tight. Then her non injured leg bent restlessly and he took the hint. Dipping his head a little, he pressed light kisses to her breast before taking her nipple in his mouth and sucking. Amanda inhaled sharply, digging her hands into his hair to hold him close.

Laying her back, he skimmed both hands down her sides, curling his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He had to lean back to take them down, carefully moving the fabric over her braced knee. Then she was naked and he took a moment just to look at her, appreciate her in a way he hadn’t in too long. She was all the more beautiful for her bruises and scars. She was a survivor, his pain in the ass Doc. It was one of the things that had made him fall in love with her.

Before she could get self conscious, he stretched up to kiss her mouth, just a soft graze of his mouth. Then he ducked down to worship her breasts again, bringing up a hand to cup her sex. She was hot and damp when he touched her and he could feel her groan vibrate in her chest. The intense reaction made him smile against her skin.

He had been planning to wait, to give her time after her ordeal before initiating anything physical. But sex was a natural reaction to trauma and violence. Near as he could tell half of Romanov and Barton’s relationship was based on that. At this particular moment, nothing felt more natural than finding comfort in her body and letting her do the same.

When she was slick and lifting her hips up to press herself into his hand, he leaned back. Amanda made a noise that was mostly growl and he couldn’t help but laugh and he shed his pants. She watched him intently as he crawled back to the bed and kneeled between her legs. He hooked a hand under her uninjured knee, lifting it and spreading her wide. Holding her gaze, he fit himself to her entrance and slid forward, ever-so-slowly.

Her lids fluttered as he filled her and she murmured his name. He sunk into her heat, all the way to the hilt, and stilled a moment, closing his eyes at how good it felt. It hit him again how close he had come to losing her. He really didn’t know what he would have done if they’d never found her, if she hadn’t managed to get that message out.

Light fingers touched his hand where it was braced beside her hip and he opened his eyes to find her looking at him in concern. He managed what he hoped was a reassuring smile and shifted his hand to weave his fingers with hers. Then he started to move in long, slow strokes that drew him almost entirely out of her before thrusting back in. 

He watched her as he moved, the soft, subtle signs of her arousal, her growing pleasure. It was the focus of the sniper used for something other than killing. He knew from the speed of her breath and the flush of her skin when it was time to move faster, to bend over her and catch her mouth in a rough, desperate kiss.

Her climax started as little flutters, deep inside. Then she cried out and clutched at him, both with her hands on his back and tight inner muscles around his cock. The feel of it urged on his own and he drove deep into her as he let go, face buried in the curve of her neck as he gasped out her name.

Amanda stroked his back as they calmed, running her fingers along the scars that marked the transition from skin the metal. It was a familiar touch, soothing. Amanda had never been repulsed by the arm, never shied from its touch. He had never found a way to properly thank her for that. Maybe he never would. And, maybe, she already knew.

When he had caught his breath he lifted his head and kissed her cheeks, her chin, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. She giggled a little and pressed her palm to his cheek to guide his mouth to hers. He sank into the kiss for a moment before carefully easing off her, settling himself on her left.

She half rolled towards him, either unable or unwilling to try moving her leg. She tucked her head onto his shoulder and wrapped her arm across his chest. “I love you,” she murmured into his skin and her voice sounded rough and choked, as if she was crying again.

He stroked her hair, sifting the strands between his fingers, letting her have privacy for her tears. “I love you back,” he told her, not surprised to find his own voice strained. “So much.”

“I know it’s the middle of the day, but I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“I doubt either of us have been resting easy,” he said, looking down at the top of her head.

She shifted a little to look up at him. Her eyes were definitely red rimmed. “You had nightmares.” It wasn’t a question.

He lifted his shoulder in the most casual shrug he could muster. “Some. I was worried about you.”

For a moment she seemed to war with herself about pressing the issue or letting it drop. Apparently, she decided not to ruin the mood and tucked her head back to his chest. “Sounds like a nap is in order.”

Bucky let out a long slow breath and inhaled the scent of tropical flowers and Amanda. “That sounds like a great idea.”


	5. Chapter 5

Amanda woke with the fuzzy headed, overheated feeling that she had slept for too long. Squinting at the bedside clock and the light pouring in the window told her she had probably slept almost a whole day, which certainly explained the sensation.

 Of course, the overheated feeling wasn’t helped by the twenty pounds of grey fluff dozing on her chest.

She’d gotten Schmendrik from the same special needs animal rescue James had gotten Panzer. Schmendrik was a three legged, one eyed, half tailed grumpy grey tomcat with an underbite. He adored her, tolerated James and seemed to have utter disdain for everyone else who came in his path. Except, for some reason, Dr. Banner, who could probably catnap him at any point and Schmendrik would be fine with it. The rescue people had thought he had some Persian or Himalayan in his recent ancestry, based on his copious amounts of fur. He’d had a lion cut when Amanda had gotten to him, due to matting. Three months later, his coat was fully grown in and they spent their evenings with her brushing him out and him purring like a freight train in her lap.

Amanda sunk her fingers into his fur and he lifted his head to blink at her with amber colored eyes. “Did you miss me, grumpy gills?” He stretched his neck out and touched noses with her in response.

She smiled and took a deep breath. She was home. Yesterday hadn’t been a dream, James and the others had come to rescue her. 

Speaking of James. . . She turned to look at the empty spot beside her. The pillow was cool, but there was a note, which she picked up and held over her head, petting Schmendrik with the other hand. 

_Darlin’_

_Went to walk Panzer and get some food. There are crutches next to your side of the bed. No weight on your foot. There’s pastries in the kitchen. If you’re doing anything but being lazy on the couch when I get back we’re going to have words._

_Love you, J_

She smiled and shifted a little, nudging the cat off of her so she could roll over and grab the crutches. Her glasses were on the nightstand. She vaguely recalled James taking them off her face as she’d drifted off the day before. She slid them on and reached for the aluminum crutches propped next to the bed. It was kind of a relief to see he’d gotten them from Tiffani. She’d had a slight fear he intended to just carry her everywhere for the next couple weeks.

Negotiating the bath room was . . . interesting. But she managed to pee, and brush and braid her hair, without putting weight on her foot. Dressing was also an adventure, but soon she was presentable enough to venture out of the bedroom. Hobbling into the kitchen she found the promised box of pastries. She didn’t think she could handle making a cup of tea by herself, so she carried a cinnamon roll in her mouth out to the living room and stretched out on the couch.

She browsed channels on the TV as she nibbled her breakfast. Eating on the couch got the attention of her other cat, Lady Mondegreen. Lady was a calico with big green eyes and a seizure disorder likely from severe head trauma. Despite the abuse she’d obviously suffered, she was quite possibly the sweetest cat on the planet and loved everybody. And, because of the big innocent eyes and slightly odd way she walked, most people were unable to resist her. Even Maria Hill, who had a general disdain for small, helpless things, had allowed her to sit in her lap the last time she’d visited.

Unfortunately, Lady didn’t really grasp the concept of “people food.” All food needed to be inspected and tasted. Amanda limited her table scraps to deli meat, roast chicken and the occasional left over sashimi. James, on the other hand, was a complete and total sucker for the green eyes and chirping meow combination and was willing to give Lady anything she asked for. To the point Amanda had printed out a list of foods that were poisonous to cats and stuck it on the fridge.

“Pastries are not kitty food,” she informed Lady as the cat paced the back of the couch, eyeing the cinnamon roll. “Grains, in general, are bad for you. You’re an obligate carnivore. Go hunt a deer.” She did let the pathetic creature lick some sugar glaze off her fingers when she was done.  
 Above her head, JARVIS chimed. “Doctor Newbury. Ms. Potts was wondering if you would be up for visitors.”

Amanda smiled. “Company would be lovely, JARVIS.”

There was a pause, then, “She will be by in about an hour with lunch, if that suits.”

“Perfect, thank you, JARVIS.”

“If I may say, Dr. Newbury, it’s nice to have you back.”

Despite the more than two years she’d worked for Stark and lived in the Tower, she still wasn’t entirely sure what JARVIS _was_. He obviously had a personality, separate from Stark’s, complete with opinions and a sense of humor. She had heard him snark at Stark, and last year Pepper had engaged his help in getting the man into the infirmary for his physical. Nat had joked she was certain JARVIS was really a person in a control room, or maybe a brain in a jar, which Amanda found slightly less creepy than a fully sentient AI system.

Whatever the case, he sounded sincere, so she tipped her head back and said, “Thank you JARVIS. I appreciate it.”

“Do let me know if I can be of service while you’re recuperating.”

“If you have any bootleg musicals in your hard drive you can then funnel to my television you’d make my day.”

There was no answer and she figured he’d probably gone off to help someone else; she didn’t know how far he could multi task. Then the cooking show she’d been watching blinked out to be replaced by a lit stage and the overture of the musical version of _The Secret Garden_ from the nineties.

Amanda grinned and settled into her cushions. “JARVIS, if you had a body, I might hug you.”

“Noted.”

The cats came to settle with her, Lady on her stomach and Schmendrik on her legs. Mary was still exploring spooky Craven Manor when her phone rang. JARVIS was able to route it to the intercom system, as the actual phone was in the kitchen on the charger.

James’s voice came over the speakers. “Hey, ‘Manda, are you resting?”

“Yes, dear,” she told the ceiling. “The cats and I are watching illegally recorded musicals.”

“Of course you are. Listen, Panzer stepped on some glass or something on the way back from the dog park, so I’m in a cab taking him to the vet. Will you be okay alone a while longer? I could bring him back and have Tiffani look at it-”

“No, no. Vets are better. Human medical people don’t know what to do with paws. And I’ll be fine. Pepper’s bringing me lunch soon. Take your time, I’m sure if I need something JARVIS can find someone in the building to help me.”

“I feel bad abandoning you your first day back. I should be waiting on you hand and foot.”

She laughed. “Later. I promise.”

“All right. I’ll keep you posted if I’m going to be all day or anything.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’m safe.” It felt good to say it out loud. It made it more true, somehow. She and James said their goodbyes and she watched a little more of the musical before someone knocked on her door.

“JARVIS, can you open the door?” she asked, removing the cats so she could sit up a bit more. There was a quiet thunk as the door unlocked, then it opened to reveal not just Pepper, but Natasha, Jane, Darcy, and Maria Hill as well.

Really, she should have been expecting this. She waved them in. “Come on, let’s get the inevitable hugging over with.”

They filed in, Maria closing the door behind them. Jane, Darcy, and Pepper all leaned down to hug her. Maria settled for a pat on the shoulder. Nat studied her a moment. “You’re all right?”

There was far more to the question than polite small talk. Nat had heard her on the comm, had met her in the stairwell and watched Steve carry her down to the jet. Nat probably knew very well that she was not all right, not really, and might not be for a long time. But that wasn’t a conversation to have right now, with company. So she just nodded a little. “Surrounded by my girls and the promise of lunch? I’m just fine.

Nat gave her own nod and, to Amanda’s surprise, bent to hug her briefly before straightening.

Pepper waved a paper bag from Amanda’s favorite fancy lunch place. “Lunch is here. What would you like to drink?”

“I would love a cup of tea. I haven’t had once since Jessie’s wedding.”

“They wouldn’t give you tea?” Darcy asked. “Those bastards.”

Amanda laughed and the rest of them hustled in and out of her kitchen, getting drinks and utensils before settling down in the living room to eat. Natasha made the tea, which meant it was strong, with just the right amount of sugar in it. “This is the best cup of tea I’ve ever had,” she informed the spy.

She grinned. “You’re going to have a lot of best meals this week.”

“Speaking of.” Pepper handed her a plate with an enormous pub style hamburger on it. “Tony insisted,” she said in response to Amanda’s questioning eyebrow. “When he got back from the cave the only food he wanted was a hamburger. So, this is with his regards. At least I didn’t go to Burger King.”

Amanda was oddly touched. Most of her dealings with Stark were in a professional setting which, given his feelings on medical exams, meant they were fairly adversarial. She supposed there was a certain kinship to being held captive. “It looks delicious. Thank him for me.”

“He’s in Calcutta,” Pepper explained, sitting at the other end of the couch while the rest of them settled in chairs and on the floor around the coffee table. “With Bruce. Cutting a ribbon on a new hospital. But when he gets back he wants to throw you a welcome home party.”

“It’s like he doesn’t know you at all,” Maria said.

“Surely he has other excuses to hold a party? Rotation of the earth? It’s a Tuesday?” That was Darcy, digging into what looked like risotto.

Pepper shrugged expansively and gave Amanda an apologetic look. “I can tell him you’re not up for it-”

“I get to approve the guest list,” she said, surprising herself a little. “And let’s wait until I can walk a little. I don’t want to hold court from a chair.”

“What if he made you a throne?” Jane said.

“Or a hover chair?” added Nat.

“Well, that would be something to consider.”

There was a lull in conversation as they all dug into their food. Then Darcy gestured with her fork and asked, “So. Do we get to hear what happened? They left us NPCs out of the loop.”

Jane and Darcy looked at her expectantly, but Nat, Pepper, and Maria looked more wary. 

She chewed her burger a moment, then took a swig of tea. “I don’t remember much about how they took me.” Only partially a lie. She remembered seeing the dark cars in her rearview mirror. The impact that drove her off the road. The frantic, pain hazed run through the woods. But they were disconnected memories, pain and panic softening the edges of them.

“I woke up wherever they took me. Virginia?” she asked Nat, who nodded. “There was a man in a nice suit who threatened me and informed me no one was going to come find me and I was going to be working for them now. I was kept in a cell and walked to a lab every morning by armed guard. When the lab assistant they gave me left his phone in his jacket and left the room I was able to get my message out. And the rest of it is probably more exciting from Nat’s end.”

“Who was the man in the hallway?” Nat asked quietly.

The mouthful of burger she’d just taken turned dry and tasteless in her mouth. She choked it down with the help of some tea and said, “He was the one who threatened me. And my family.” She lifted a shoulder. “I did warn him what I’d do to him when I was rescued.”

The were silent a moment and she could feel herself going back there to that hallway. She could feel the weight of the gun in her hand and the sharp report of the shot. The spray of blood and grey matter across the vinyl floor.

Amanda took a deep breath, forcing herself to back away from the darkness. She picked up her burger again and found a smile she could paste on her face. “So. What did I miss while I was gone?”

The rest of lunch was filled with stories from the other women. Pepper’s pregnancy was still beating her up, but the baby was healthy and measuring right on time. Jane had some funny tales of the lab. Darcy had gone on vacation with her boyfriend and his family and had a plethora of stories from that. For the most part it felt like any of their lunch dates, just sprawled across her living room instead of a nice cafe. It felt normal and homey. Amanda had never felt farther away from the darkness.

When lunch was done the ladies cleaned up for her and said their goodbyes, with another round of hugs. Then she was alone with her cats again. JARVIS kept the musicals coming until she drifted off again.

She woke to the sound of the door opening and the impact of an eager dog landing on her.

Laughing, she struggled to sit up under Panzer’s enthusiastic greeting. “I missed you, too, Panz.” She dug her fingers into the fur at his neck and scritched roughly, slipping beneath his collar to scratch the itchy skin there. “Who’s a good boy? Hmm? Did you get a boo-boo foot?”

“He got two stitches and some excellent pain killers,” James said, watching from the other end of the couch. “I think he was malingering a bit for the cute techs who kept giving him treats.”

“Aww. You gotta be careful buddy, you only have a few feet left.”

Panzer woofed and tried to lick her face. Amanda laughed and held him off until James came over and helped get the dog calmed. He got Panzer to the spare bedroom with a combination of sharp commands and tugs at his collar. She could hear him talking to the dog as he got him settled in his crate with dinner and smiled at the familiarity of it.

She’d gotten herself into a proper sitting position, bad leg braced on an ottoman, when James returned. He sat on the ottoman, carefully shifting her foot over so he’d fit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get to the store. Steve was all but force feeding me when you were gone, there’s not much here.”

Rubbing his hip with her toes, she said, “It’s all right. The girls brought me a big lunch. We can order in groceries or something.”

His cybernetic hand curved around her calf, skimming up her leg lightly. “Part of me was half afraid you wouldn’t really be here when I got back. That rescuing you was all a dream.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” she said softly. And she did. Sitting here in her own home with him felt oddly fragile. Surely it would all be stripped away again soon and she’d be back in her little cell with Hydra. Or perhaps even somewhere worse. She pressed her foot into his hip, leg laying along his, the contact grounding and steading her.

Hand tightening a little, he reached out with his right hand and cupped her cheek, drawing her towards him for a kiss.

It started out as just a kiss, sweet and affectionate, to reassure them both. But then it deepened and his fingers tangled into the loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid. His metal hand slid up, cupping her rear to tug her forward to the edge of the couch. She barely had to help and he had lifted her into his lap so he could tug her hair free and kiss her roughly.

His hand flexed on her ass, pressing her tight to him, making the seam of her shorts rub against her intimately. She gasped into his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulder. He tugged her hair out of its tie and toyed with it a moment, before sliding his hand around to cup her breast through her shirt. She ground against the hard bulge of his jeans and he made a noise that was almost a growl, breaking the kiss to press his face into her shoulder.

“I feel like I should slow down,” he mumbled against the soft cotton of her tank top, even as his thumb circled her nipple, making it tighten and peak. “Give you time to settle.”

“Sex is a perfectly normal reaction to trauma,” she assured him. For emphasis, she leaned back and tugged her tank top off. He groaned and shifted his metal hand up from her ass to flatten on her back to arch her towards him. He took the nipple he’d been teasing into her mouth and sucked, almost too hard, tongue lapping at the peak. 

Amanda sank both hands into his hair, holding him to her as he teased. She pressed her face against the top of his head, closing her eyes so she could focus on the feel and smell of him. She was home and safe and he wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to her.

She felt him tug at her shorts and sighed a little. Getting them off would be complicated, given their current position and her injured leg. She was about to make a comment about logistics when he reached down into his boot and pulled out a knife. Without a word, he bunched up the fabric of her shorts in one hand and cut them off her with a few flicks of the knife. It happened almost too quickly for her to process. The knife clattered as it hit the ground and then his fingers were sinking into her.

Her breath left her in one long shuddering rush, a combination of arousal and shock. He leaned back to look at her, hand moving lazily. “I suppose I should have asked. . . “

She shook her head sharply. “No, it’s okay. That was. . . that was really hot.”

His eyes darkened and a slow, wicked smile spread over his face. “Oh, really?” He twisted his wrist a little, pressing the heel of his hand against her clit. The sudden contact made her gasp and shudder.

“You like when I’m a little rough, don’t you?” he said, watching her face as he stroked her. She nodded, because there wasn’t much point in lying and she didn’t entirely trust her voice.

He brought his left hand up to stroke her breast, metal warmed to the temperature of her skin. He pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “What about this?” he asked, and she knew he meant his arm and not the touch.

When she opened her mouth to respond he did _something_ with his fingers that sent a jolt of sensation through her and all that came out was a little cry of pleasure. The grin spread wider and she rocked against his palm, near her limit.

She rested her forehead on his. “I like it,” she whispered. She’d avoided letting him know how much before now, worried he’d be upset. But he seemed to be hoping she found it sexy. Maybe he just needed validation it didn’t repel her. If so, she was happy to comply. “There’s something extremely arousing about knowing how strong you are, knowing all the things you’ve done with it, and yet you’ve only ever brought me pleasure.”

He bent close and kissed her throat, the upper curve of her breast. “I won’t ever hurt you,” he whispered into her skin. 

Emotion choked her throat and she closed her eyes, pressing her face into his hair. She didn’t trust herself to speak, but she reached between them and undid the fly of his jeans, freeing the hard length of his cock from the confining denim. 

He murmured something that sounded like appreciation and slowly removed his hand from between her thighs.

She took a deep breath and managed to mumble, “My leg- I don’t know if I can move-”

“Shh.” He wrapped both hands around her waist and shifted her, lifting his hips at the same time so he slid inside her in one smooth motion. She gasped at the suddenness of it, and the wave of pleasure caused by the friction of his entrance. “You don’t have to do a thing,” he told her, tipping his head back to look at her. He gripped her hips and moved her, rocking his hips in counter point. It was short, quick thrusts, but oddly gentle.

She relaxed into his hold, arms loose around his shoulders. He was still watching her face and she smiled a little, running her thumb along his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled, and she thought his eyes suddenly looked bright and red rimmed. “I love you, back,” he told her, voice rough.

Bending down to kiss him, she let herself get lost in what he was doing to her. The heat, the friction. The building pleasure. It gathered tight inside her, heavy and aching. His fingers dug into her hips, hard enough to bruise. Close, they were both so close.

She felt the pressure inside her reach its peak and lifted her mouth to gasp for air. Her climax poured through her in waves, shaking her to the core. James held her tightly as she came, still moving her on his cock. It drew her pleasure out, pushed her to new heights and finally, finally triggered his own.

The heat of his release spread inside her and he dragged her hips down, burying himself as deep as possible. She wrapped her arms around him and sank against his chest, shuddering with the last echoes of her orgasm.

His hands moved from her waist, sliding up her back to hold her close. He buried his face in her shoulder and she rested her cheek on top of his head, breathing hard.  
 To her surprise, she felt tears well up in her eyes. She lifted a hand and rubbed at her face, embarrassed. James turned his head and straightened. “Honey?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing, I’m sorry.”

Cool metal touched her cheek, brushing away a tear she’d missed. “Talk to me.”

Almost despite herself, she admitted, “I was so scared.” The grieved expression on his face broke her heart and she closed her eyes to block it out. “I was so sure you’d come. The first day, the second. I was waiting for you to break down the door. And you _didn’t_.”

“‘Manda,” he said roughly. His hand buried in her hair and he drew her head down to his shoulder. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking her head, she choked out, “I wasn’t your fault. I know it wasn’t. I don’t blame you. I was just - You didn’t come. I thought you’d never come, that I’d never see you again.”

He rocked her gently, stroking her hair. After a moment, he shifted her so she was sideways on his lap and stood with her in his arms. He turned and sat on the couch with her in his lap, pulling one of her thick, knit afghans off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her. Through all the moving she just clung to him, crying and hating every instant of it.

“I never would have stopped looking for you,” he whispered, still petting her hair. “Not ever. I swear it.”

She nodded, because she knew it was true. She’d known it was true sitting on a cot in that Hydra base. She just hadn’t been sure if it mattered.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” He kissed her hair. “You’ve only been back a day. Things are going to come up. You don’t always have to be strong. I don’t want you to hide things from me.” He leaned back so he could see her face, wiping at her tears again. “Promise to talk if stuff is bothering you. If not to me then one of the wives club or something.” His gaze flicked back and forth over her face and he repeated, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” she said softly. He studied her carefully another moment. She didn’t begrudge him his skepticism. She was not, generally, known for sharing her feelings.

Whatever he saw in her face must have reassured him, because he gave a little nod and drew her head down to kiss her. “You want to lay down for a while?” he asked. “I can make you some tea.”

Amanda closed her eyes and smiled, love tightening her chest and throat. “That sounds lovely.”

With another brisk nod he stood with her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

For two weeks Amanda was essentially apartment bound with her knee braced and elevated whenever possible. Bucky tried hard not to fuss, since he knew it was the quickest way to make her grumpy and resistant to help. And as she was being remarkably willing to let him take care of her so he didn’t want to do anything to upset that fragile balance.

She spent most of her time on the couch, leg propped up, knitting. After she finished the blanket she’d been making for Stark and Pepper’s impending baby, she started making socks for everyone who’d been a part of her rescue. Fortunately, her yarn came via mail order so he didn’t have to go shop for it. There were limits to his willingness to sacrifice for her.

He delivered the ones she couldn’t. Sam Wilson was positively delighted and promptly took his shoes off to try them on to the amusement of Steve and Bucky. James Rhodes stuck them in his pocket with a distracted thank you. Three days later her cornered Bucky outside a meeting room and asked how many more pairs Amanda could make. He ended up giving the man her email address. Again, there were limits.

She was halfway done with a hat, sweater and booties for Stark and Pepper’s impending baby when Tiffani took the brace off and agreed she could come back to work on a limited basis. Amanda was not as exuberant at the end of her confinement as Bucky has expected, but still got up bright and early the next morning and kissed him goodbye to head back down to work.

Her second round of animal testing was coming to an end and she and her techs were working on their final reports and conclusions. From what she had told him, it had gone just about perfectly. The next step was voluntary human testing, but it required approval by the FDA and the AMA. Which meant meetings and a heavy analysis of her findings. She had been a little stressed out about it when they’d gone up for her sister’s wedding. Now, having lost most of a month to her capture and recovery, it was probably understandable if the idea of going back to it was overwhelming.

After that, things seemed to go back to normal, for the most part. He went on a couple of short, non-Hydra related missions and Amanda greeted him on the Wife Line every time. When he wasn’t on mission, he worked out with Steve and went shooting with Barton. Amanda begged off going out to lunch when he went down, claiming she was too busy, but was very appreciative when he brought her take out.

Her little sister, Jessie, came to visit after her honeymoon, then her dad a few days later. It wasn’t until Bucky was on his way back upstairs from getting her dad into a cab that he realized Amanda hadn’t been out of the Tower since she’d come home, over a month ago. And, once he thought of it, it occurred to him that he hadn’t even seen her go as far as the lobby in all that time, either.

It could be a coincidence. Or she could have gone out and he hadn’t noticed. Maybe she was going out with her techs during the week. Or with the Wives Club while he was on mission. He could probably ask JARVIS and be sure, but that seemed a little weird, checking up on her that way. But if he just asked her there was a good chance she’d get defensive and he’d never get a straight answer out of her.

She was having nightmares. Frequently. Bucky had lost count of how many nights he’d woken to her thrashing or, more often, simply gone, having hobbled out to the living room to read or knit and not disturb him. She hadn’t told him what they were about, claimed not to remember. He’d taken her at her word, but was starting to wonder if it was all connected.

He thought about talking to Steve about it, but he’d been oddly distracted the last few weeks and, if he was being honest, not the most experienced with women. Barton probably knew more about dealing with stoic women, but he wasn’t big on relationship chats. He’d do it if pressed, they’d discussed such things before, usually while out shooting, but Bucky wasn’t quite desperate enough to push.

So he went at the problem head on. More or less.

“Why don’t we go out to dinner tomorrow night?” he suggested one evening while helping her wash dishes.

Amanda paused briefly in scrubbing the pot she was working on. He tried not to read into it, it was an odd suggestion. “Like a date?”

“If you like. Are there any movies you want to see? Maybe something I can mock the actor’s trigger discipline?”

She focused on her washing a moment. “Even better, there’s a WWII movie I was interested in.”

He had expected more push back on this. “Really? Am I in it?”

She laughed. “Not to my knowledge.” She glanced back at him. “You really want to go out on a date?”

Closing the distance between them, he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s been a hell of a few weeks, but I feel like maybe things are getting back to normal. We should celebrate.”

There was no immediate verbal response, but he could feel her lean into him. “I could use a night out.” She sounded more reluctant than he would have liked, but agreement was agreement.

So he kissed the top of her head and said, “I’ll make reservations.”

Bucky spent the next day with a vague sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no logical reason for it. Amanda seemed fine, if a little quiet. She did paperwork on their coffee table for most of the afternoon, but didn’t even have to be reminded to get up and shower before the date.

When she emerged about half an hour later she was in pinstriped slacks and a sleeveless blouse and wearing her hair down. It kind of made him want to forget the move and dinner and stay here. Which, knowing her, might have been the point.

"Ready?"

She fidgeted her blouse a little and patted her pockets before nodding and picking up her purse from the back of the couch. "Dinner first or the movie?"

"Movie," he told her, taking her hand as they stepped out into the hallway. "So I'll buy you pop corn but only the small size."

That got him a smile. "What if I want candy?"

"You have to share mine." She laughed and he hit the button to bring the elevator up. 

On the ride down to the lobby she fidgeted with something in her purse, then settled and resettled the strap on her shoulder. Nervous tics weren't like her. One of the things that had first drawn him to her was her ability to be still and silent, almost as well as he could. 

The lobby of the building was mostly empty, save for a couple of security guards and the receptionist. There was a handful of people coming and going at any time. Employees working late, shift workers, and people who lived in the building or those visiting them. The constant bustle of the building and of New York in general had been stressful when he'd first come back with Steve but now he found it almost soothing. There was something appealing about being utterly anonymous.

Amanda took his hand again when they stepped out of the elevator, the left one, so he was careful to curl his fingers around her lightly. He gave a nod to one of the security guards that he recognized from the gym as they headed to the doors.

A few feet away from the entrance he realized that she was gripping his hand so hard that, had it been flesh and bone, she likely would have bruised him. He glanced at her to find her breathing hard through her nose, skin gone pale. "’Manda?"

She shook her head sharply, staring at the doors and the busy street beyond them. Her breath had gone short and panting, like a wounded animal. "I can't," she gritted out, barely audible.

He turned, getting between her and the door. "’Manda, honey, breathe." The metal of his hand was digging into the soft skin between her thumb and forefinger and she had started to bleed sluggishly. He tried to pry her fingers off his.

"I can't, I can't." She was dangerously close to hyperventilating now. The security guard he'd nodded to was coming concern evident on his face. 

Bucky tried to wave him off, but the other man reached out and touched Amanda's arm, mouth open, most likely to ask her if she was all right. As Bucky suspected, the touch snapped her out of her panic attack, at least long enough for her to release his had, whirl and punch the guard. 

The man stumbled back a step and Amanda bolted. Torn, Bucky took a step towards the guard but he waved him off. So he took off after Amanda.

He found her in the stair well, halfway up the third flight. She was sitting on the steps, purse at her side, face buried in her hands. He couldn't tell if she was crying or simply breathing hard. She didn't lift her head when he came close, but he saw her shoulder tense as he crouched on a step a few below her.

"You haven't left the Tower since your kidnapping, have you?" He was rather proud of how steady his voice was. 

She shook her head and he continued, "You promised you'd talk to me."

"I know," she said, voice muffled. She lifted her head and while her face was flushed her eyes looked dry. "I didn't realize - I was laid up with the knee and then so busy with my study work. It didn't occur to me it was a problem. I've gone days without leaving before. Then the other day Tiffani wanted to take me to sushi and I just. . . the idea made me feel like I was drowning. So I declined but I figured it was just a one time thing. I'd figure it out later."

"Why did you agree to come out with me tonight?"

She sighed. "I thought if you were with me I'd feel safe. That it would fix it," she added with a wry smile.

He returned the smile. "For a doctor, sometimes you're really dumb." She laughed a little, then her face fell into something miserable. He climbed the last couple of steps to sit next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "We live on a floor of people with various forms of PTSD, you know that, right?"

"I know," she said in a small voice. "It's just silly. I wasn't in a war, or tortured. I didn't die."

He squeezed her shoulders. "We don't get to control what hurts us. You were kidnapped, injured, threatened. You told me you gave up hoping you'd be rescued. That's going to leave a mark." She didn't reply and he squeezed her again, feeling oddly helpless. It wasn't a feeling he was used to, or particularly enjoyed.

At least she wasn't crying. He never knew what to do with himself when she cried. "Come on. Let's go upstairs. I'll bandage your hand and order some dinner." She nodded and he stood, helping her up. They walked up to the next landing and he wrapped his arms around her. "Tomorrow, I'm going to call Sam and get a recommendation for a therapist for you, okay?"

There was a pause while she seemed to wrestle with her pride. Then she sighed and nodded again. Bucky pressed a kiss to her temple. "It'll be all right,” he told her. He would make it so.

*

The infirmary was dead quiet the next morning. Even her techs had barely poked their heads in when they arrived for work. Amanda wondered if James had sent out some sort memo, _Doc finally snapped. Give her a wide berth._

Not that she was really in the mood to see anyone. She felt raw and unsettled. Like an exposed nerve. Perhaps she could go talk to Dr. Banner. He was oddly soothing sometimes.

She picked at the bandage on her hand. The evening hadn’t been a total loss. They’d ordered Thai and watched one of the old, corny Captain America movies. James had been played by Rex Harrison, which she was certainly a fan of. There were worse ways to recover from a mental breakdown.

The door opened softly and to her surprise Tony Stark stepped inside. She knew he didn’t have an appointment. If he had he wouldn’t actually be here.

She watched him sit in her guest chair - that had been James’s chair for a long time, before they started dating - and rested his ankle on his knee.

“Did you need something, Stark?” she asked, aiming for professional detachment.

“When I had my first panic attack I thought I’d been poisoned.”

Apparently there had been some sort of memo. Or, more likely, the Avenger gossip phone tree. Probably James to Steve to Clint or Natasha to one of the other Wives Club members to Pepper to Stark. And so on. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Stark, I really don’t-”

“No, really. Poisoned,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I was at lunch with Rhodey and this kid came up to fan boy and he mentioned New York and all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe. I felt hot and sweaty. I ran out to the suit so JARVIS could run a diagnostic.”

That. . . certainly sounded like what she’d felt the night before. “Well. You did almost die in the battle. Or did you actually die? I’ve never gotten an accurate description.”

“Doesn’t matter. New York was a catalyst but I don’t think that’s where it started. I think it started in Afghanistan. You know, when bad guys kidnapped me, injured me, and tried to get me to use my skills for their own gain?”

Amanda opened her eyes and focused on him. He was as serious as she had ever seen him, staring her dead in the eye. Was Tony Stark really comparing his experience with hers? He’d been in a goddamned cave with shrapnel in his chest. She’d hurt her knee and slept in an actual bed in a building.

_Yeah, a building full of armed guards with orders to shoot. And a guy willing to torture you for your help._

“The one where you had to shoot your way out to find rescue?” she asked quietly.

He did a little finger gun point at her. “That one. I got out because I built a suit. So I built another suit. And another. And I beat the bad guys who’d kidnapped me. And then I kept building suits. See, as long as I had a suit I was safe. Kind of like how if you don’t leave this extremely well defended building you’re safe.”

Her chest was starting to tighten up, the way it had last night. Poisoning probably hurt like this. “And New York?”

“Proved the suit wasn’t a magical protection device. No matter how many I built sooner or later I had to face that. And when I did, I started to get better. You can, too.”

A pep talk from Tony Stark. She was fairly certain that only happened once in a blue moon. She found herself unexpectedly moved but damn if she’d tear up in front of him. “Thank you. Tony,” she said softly.

“And hey, next time you try to head outside, you could try wearing a suit.”

She laughed a little. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think I could work a suit quite as well as you do.”

Stark grinned. “Well, no one does.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sam sent her two therapist recommendations who were willing to come to the Tower for their sessions. The first was a very sweet woman about five years her junior. She was well meaning enough, and probably quite easy on the eyes of young soldiers coming back from their tours of duty. But Amanda just couldn’t take her seriously. The second was a man, almost her father’s age, who didn’t seem to be able to take her or her anxiety seriously.

In the end Sam himself came up to talk to her about exposure therapy and cognitive behavior therapy. It required standing with him in the lobby as her panic rose, peaked and finally ebbed. Every day for a week they did that, just standing in the lobby and breathing through her panic.

It was awful. Exhausting, both mentally and emotionally. But at the end of the week she could stand next to the door, looking out at the bustling sidewalk, and not feel panic. He left her feeling far better about her prognosis, with the address of a trauma support group as her eventual goal.

To her embarrassment, the rest of them took turns with her doing the therapy. Darcy hung out with her, making her listen to songs on her iPod and making up complicated backstories for the people walking past. Pepper came down with a folding chair and worked from her phone. Even Dr. Banner emerged from his labs and spent and afternoon with her, discussing an article he’d read about brain chemistry and new drugs for bipolar disorder.

On the day she was willing to try stepping out of the lobby onto the sidewalk, Stark himself showed up and let her wear one of his gauntlets as they stood in front of the Tower for thirty minutes. He ended up taking pictures and signing autographs. Despite the crowd he gathered merely by his presence, she felt pretty good by the time she went back inside.

The last week in August, almost two months after her sister’s wedding and her stay at Hydra, she kissed James on the sidewalk and walked into the support meeting all on her own.

The group suited her much better than one-on-one therapy. She couldn’t be entirely honest about what had happened to her and why, but they got the gist of it. She wasn’t even the only kidnapping victim there. Hearing other people’s stories helped put hers in perspective. And it gave her permission to be traumatized by it. No, she had not had the most traumatic experience in history, or even among the people in her building. But it had been bad and she had a right to be afraid.

Her nightmares improved, as did her mood. She got her appetite back and put on a few pounds. Which would not be a reason for celebration normally, but Darcy, Jane, Nat and Maria managed to convince her to actually go out shopping in an actual store, something she hated doing even before her kidnapping. Darcy took them to a vintage store that Amanda normally never would have set foot in. But they had a couple dresses that brought to mind the starlets of the forties which James greatly appreciated.

So she was in a relatively positive mood when September began until she got a very formal letter from the FDA.

“So why, exactly, do they need you to meet in person?”

She was pacing the length of their living room as James sat at their couch, letter in his hand. “I need to present my study findings on the serum if I want to move onto human testing.”

“Isn’t it early to move onto human testing?”

Sam said pacing wasn’t good for anxiety, but sitting still didn’t feel any better, so she paced. It probably wasn’t helping the vague queasy feeling in her stomach. But she’d had that on and off since the PTSD had started, so she was almost becoming used to it. “Normally, yes. But I’ve had two successful rat studies and there’s nothing more I can learn from it. Stark’s lawyers found a loophole since it’s based on a previously successful human tested drug.”

“The one that only successfully worked on two and a half people?” he asked.

“Two and a half documented people. Hesse obviously found a dosage that worked.”

“Three and a half, then.”

“Who’s side are you on, exactly?” He held up his hands in surrender. “It will be completely voluntary. People with chronic illnesses, who are willing to gamble everything.” She ran her hands through her hair and flopped onto the couch beside him. “I wouldn’t test it on people if I wasn’t confident it was safe.”

“So you don’t think it will give people red skulls?”

She smiled at the tease. “No. Most likely it will just. . . not do anything.” She sighed and took the letter from him. “It will definitely do nothing if I can’t go present my findings in two weeks.”

He slid an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “You can do this.”

She leaned into him, finding comfort in his sturdy heat. It took her a few minutes of breathing in his scent before she could voice her real fears. “They’ll be able to find me.” He shifted, looking down at her. “Hydra,” she added. “Everywhere else I’ve gone it’s been random. No way to track my schedule. This will involve appointments and panel of experts and. . . they’d be able to find me, if they wanted to.”

His hand stroked her arm gently. “You think they’ll came back for you again?”

“The man in the suit. . . he said he had superiors. The ones who had told him I was difficult. They weren’t at the base. They’re still out there.”

He kept rubbing her arm, the rhythm slow and soothing. “Then I guess the Avengers will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Amanda rubbed at her face. “I can’t ask-”

“You won’t. I will. Look what we did to get you back. Even if I can’t make it an official mission half the team will come just as a favor to one of us. Me, Steve. Nat’s your friend, I can probably talk Barton into it. Hell, Stark seems to be taking this rather personally. We’ll cover you.”

Well, how many people in the world could say that the Avengers were their personal body guards. “I suppose once I’ve presented my research I won’t be such a target. The information will be out there.” She sat up a little to wrap her arms around him. “I’m tired of being afraid,” she admitted quietly.

James kissed the top of her head, squeezing her tightly. “Then let’s get this done. And you can stop looking over your shoulder.”

*

The FDA headquarters was in Silver Springs, Maryland, a campus of perhaps a dozen buildings of various sizes. Amanda’s appointment was at 2pm, but Clint and Nat went down in the morning to do recon and so Clint could choose his nest. Since it was in his neck of the woods, Sam Wilson agreed to come out and help as well. Bucky was fairly certain he just took any excuse to put the wings on. Stark had wanted to come - speaking of people who’d use any excuse to put equipment on - but had something work related come up. 

The meeting was to be in building 62, on the north west end of the compound. Based on aerial views, there was a large parking lot next to it, with open field beyond it. Easily defendable, which was a relief. Bucky had been worried that they’d be stuck somewhere in New York with high rises on every side and dozens of bystanders.

Steve was in the front of the SUV, turning carefully into the compound entrance. Bucky was in the back with Amanda, who was strangling the strap of her messenger bag.

He reached over and wrapped his fingers around her hand. “It’ll be all right.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to stay calm.”

Tapping the earpiece in his ear, he asked, “Barton, you in position?”

“I can see Wilson’s house from here,” came the reply.

“Did I leave the iron on?” the other man chimed in.

Bucky smiled and saw Steve doing the same. “Nat?”

“I’ve cleared the parking lot. No car bombs, no kidnappers lurking in a backseat. One pair of coworkers getting frisky.”

“Seriously?” Wilson asked.

“Yes.” Nat sounded really unimpressed with whatever she had witnessed. “You didn’t miss much, I promise.”

Steve pulled into the parking lot and found a spot as close to the path to the buildings as possible. He turned the engine off and swiveled in his seat to look at them.

“Okay. Steve’s going to get out first and meet us as your door. Barton is on top of that building there.” He pointed up through the window and she ducked her head down to try to spot the sniper, which he knew she wouldn’t. “Wilson is patrolling deeper in the campus. Nat will meet us on the path heading into campus. The three of us will stay with you all the way to the meeting. Barton and Wilson will stay out here keeping an eye out.”

“Got it,” she said. She looped the strap of her bag over her shoulder and across her chest. It didn’t really mesh with the crisp black pantsuit and burgundy pumps she was wearing for her presentation. The bag had her laptop and notes in it, and she wasn’t exactly a briefcase or purse person, so he guessed she had to make do.

Steve climbed out and made his way around the back of the car. Since this wasn’t an official Avenger mission they’d decided to forego uniforms and were in street clothes, except for Wilson, who had his wings and Barton, who was laying on top of a building with a very large gun which generally called for tac gear or camouflage of some sort. Steve had his shield, though, which kind of defeated the point of street clothes but who was going to stop him?

He pulled the back door open and Amanda slid out of the SUV and stepped to Steve’s side, Bucky on her heels. They made their way across the lot, towards the shadow of the buildings.

“Is Doc on the comm?” Nat asked. Bucky was kind of amused that they all called her Doc when in the field, even the ones who normally called her Amanda. He supposed it was as close to an Avenger name as she had.

“No, is something wrong?” Steve asked, glancing up at the buildings.

“Nah. I just wanted to know where she got her shoes.”

Steve rolled his eyes but Bucky smiled and leaned closer to Amanda to tell her, “Nat likes your shoes.”

The words made her smile, which he was pretty sure was the real purpose of Nat’s comment. She stopped and went on her toes to say something in his comm in response. But he never heard what she was going to say.

A shot echoed across the lot and something whizzed past him, missing Amanda’s hair by an inch and hitting Steve in the chest hard enough to knock him back.

“Sniper!” Bucky yelled, grabbing Amanda by the arm and hauling her towards cover. Steve staggered towards them, shield up to cover Amanda and another shot rang out, taking Steve center mass again. 

He got Amanda behind a low slung mini van, then turned back for Steve. He was down, face down, blood pooling beneath him. “Steve!”

Amanda turned to follow his gaze, cursed, and moved as if to run to Steve’s side. Bucky grabbed her arm - probably too hard - and yanked her back to the ground, hard enough she cried out a little.

“Stay. Down.” He grit it out through a clenched jaw. She took a deep breath and nodded, then started rummaging in her bag.

“Barton, where is he shooting from?” Wilson’s voice was tight and clipped on the comm.

“He’s on the loading dock.” A pause, another crack of a rifle. Then, “Got him.”

“Confirming,” Wilson replied and Bucky saw him wing out from behind one of the office buildings towards the loading dock.

“Guys, we got incoming,” Nat said, breaking the small fraction of relief he’d started to feel. “Two SUVs coming in. One at the west entrance, other one north.”

Bucky cursed, hearing the engines coming now that she’d warned them. He glanced over at Amanda to find her with her phone out and her shoes kicked off. “Who are you calling?”

“No one,” she said brusquely. “Steve’s not breathing, I’m timing how long.” She looked at him. “Why, do you want me to call someone? I didn’t think adding local police to this will help.”

“Probably not. I’m sure someone inside has called by now.” He was still trying do process the whole “Steve not breathing” thing. “How long does he have?”

“A normal person suffers irreversible brain damage at eight to ten minutes, guaranteed death at sixteen. The serum will give him more leeway but-”

Machine gun fire cut her off, a flurry of bullets hitting their minivan. She ducked instinctively, but Bucky hauled his assault rifle up and braced it on the hood, returning fire.

“You got ten guys,” Barton reported. His rifle echoed again. “Nine.”

The Hydra guys were fanning out, trying to flank them and the cars in the lot were great cover. Bucky spotted Wilson take down two with a flying kick and Nat bring another down without firing a single bullet.

Bucky concentrated on keeping them away from their hiding spot and let the others take them down.

“Barnes, on your right,” Barton warned.

He’d barely had time to turn to see the guy flanking them, when a bolt of energy flashed past his shoulder and sent the guy flying.

Bucky looked back to see Amanda holding up one hand, which had one of Stark’s repulsers on it. He shook his head. “Where-?”

“He let me borrow it,” she said, rubbing her shoulder with a wince. “Like a security blanket.”

Barton’s sniper rifle cracked the air twice more, then his voice came over the comm. “Clear.”  
   
“Checking,” Nat said. Bucky glanced over the hood and saw her inspecting the Hydra SUVs. “Yeah, clear.”

He looked at Amanda and said, “Go.”

She sprinted around the end of the minivan, peeling the repulser off as she ran. Skidding to her knees next to Steve she was already examining him by the time Bucky had cleared the van bumper. She’d rolled him onto his side, examining both entry and exit wounds. Then she lifted her head and scanned the nearby cars. Before he could ask what she was looking for she stood and went to a mud splattered blue hatchback. Using her elbow, she smashed the back window, rummaged around, and pulled out a green canvas pack about the size of a hardback book. It had a bright red cross sewn onto it.

Bucky and Nat reached Steve the same time Amanda did. She ripped open the first aid kit and started ripping open gauze packets and stuffing them into the wounds in Steve’s back. “Two through and through,” she said. “Exit wounds aren’t as bad as they could be.”

“He was too close,” Bucky said, and he could almost see Barton nodding from where ever he was still perched. “The bullet didn’t have time to fragment.”

“Well, his incompetence is Steve’s gain.” She spread a shock blanket down on the ground and eased Steve onto his back on top of it. “Do you know mouth-to-mouth?” she asked Nat.

The redhead nodded and immediately dropped to her knees by Steve’s head and began CPR. Amanda had scissors out of the bag and was cutting Steve’s shirt open. Glancing at her phone she muttered, “Six minute forty eight seconds.” Then, louder, “Do we have confirmation an ambulance is coming?”

Barton’s voice crackled in his ear. “Bus, fire and five cop cars on their way up the road. I’m on my way down.”

“Help is on the way,” he told Amanda.

“Good. Someone get in touch with my team at the Tower. I need all of Steve’s blood that we have on hand ready for transport to whatever hospital they’re taking us to. Plus Tiffani and Pooja, if possible.”

Wilson jogged up, staring at Steve, prone on the ground and the blood pooling around him. Bucky pulled his phone out and handed it to him. “Call Maria Hill, get her up to speed and pass on Doc’s message.” Christ, now he was doing it.

Seemingly grateful for something to do, Wilson paced away just as the police and ambulance pulled into the lot.

The EMTs raced to their side, taking over for Nat while Amanda barked out orders. Fortunately, this left Nat available to do her thing with the cops. Barton wandered over with his very large gun and stood next to him, watching the cops decide they weren’t the bad guys. Bucky found he was unable to look away from Steve, and Amanda’s bloody hands.


	8. Chapter 8

Amanda had lost track of what time it was. For all she knew it was no longer the same day she’d had her appointment with the FDA. One of her residency mentors used to tell them it wasn’t tomorrow until you’d slept more that 90 minutes, so by that definition it was definitely still the same day.

After the shoot-out in the parking lot she’d had a hectic ambulance ride to Holy Cross Hospital, in Silver Springs. There, she’d scrubbed up with their lead cardiac and thoracic surgeons to work on Steve. Stark had flown Steve’s blood in with the suit and Tiffani and Pooja had arrived soon after with their supply of serum specific anesthesia. All the Avengers kept a few units of their blood in storage at the Tower, for emergencies such as this.

The surgery had been exhausting. Despite the shots being clean through and throughs they had done significant damage. His right lung had been punctured in two different places, which had also compromised his diaphragm. The second had missed his heart by centimeters, damaging the pericardium as well as nicking the inferior vena cava. 

Fixing the damage had been finicky, delicate work and she’d been glad to let the other doctors take lead. They’d both confirmed her suspicion that without the serum he likely wouldn’t have made it to the operating table.

Those six minutes and forty eight seconds without air weighed heavy on her mind throughout the entire operation. When he was closed up and sent to recovery she stopped briefly in the waiting room to update James and the others and phoned into the Tower to do the same and arrange transport back home. Until they had a better idea of who had planned the attack, it was safest to have him recuperate in her infirmary, rather than the hospital.

The original plan had been for him to be transferred once he regained consciousness after the anesthesia wore off. Except he didn’t wake up. Not an hour after surgery. Not two. At that point, those six minutes and forty eight seconds were clanging like an alarm bell in her head. So she’d conferred with neurologists at Holy Cross, as well as several others across the country.

After a round of CAT scans and EEGs they’d gone through with their original transfer plan, with her Tiffani and Pooja on the evac copter and the Avengers in a quinjet Clint had flown out.

Now she stood in her infirmary surrounded by the entirety of the Avengers’ roster, as well as Sam Wilson and Maria Hill, delivering the worst news she’d had to deliver in a very long time.

“What do you mean ‘he’s in a coma?’”

Amanda pressed the tips of her fingers against her eyes. It must be very, very late. She was so tired her eyes itched. Wilson had asked the question, but she addressed the group at large. “He hasn’t woken him up. I _can’t_ wake him up. His scans show significant brain damage from the lack of oxygen. He’s breathing on his own and his heart is pumping but he’s not conscious. He’s in a coma.”

“Shouldn’t the serum fix that?” Natasha asked.

“Yes. And it still might. There was a great deal of other damage its also fixing. It could be that this will simply take a little longer. I’ll monitor his brain activity regularly and see if there’s an improvement.”

“And if there isn’t improvement?” Stark looked like he wanted to know what machine, exactly, he could build to fix this.

God, she was tired. “If there’s no improvement . . . then I try to find out why the serum isn’t healing him and go from there.”

“So you have no idea why it’s not working.”

“No.” A little bit of frustration was threading through her tone now. “The only successful recipients of the serum are Steve and James. This is the first time one of them hasn’t healed. So, no, I have no idea why it’s not working, because this is the first time it’s happened.”

Stark paced away from her, head tipped back. Banner glanced at him in concern and asked, “What are next steps?”

“As I said, I’ll monitor-”

“Fix him.”

The quiet words stopped the rest of them in their tracks. It was the first thing James had said in her hearing since he’d told her an ambulance was on the way. He wasn’t looking at her, but at the doorway of the exam room they’d placed Steve in.

Amanda swallowed hard. “James, it’s not that simple.”

“I was shot more than this, you brought me through.”

“Your lungs weren’t compromised, you didn’t have oxygen deprivation. It’s not the same-”

He turned and looked at her and she honestly didn’t recognize him. This must have been what the Soldier had looked like. She’d never properly met him. “Fix. Him.”

She took a long, slow breath in through her nose, feeling the tension level of the room crank up. “I can’t.”

His hands fisted and he took a step forward. She straightened her spine, drawing herself up to her full height. But he didn’t come any closer, instead turning around and lifting a foot to kick her desk, sending it flying back into the wall, wood cracking and papers flying.

When he whirled back to her, Wilson tried to grab at his arm. “Stand down, Barnes.”

James shook him off, stalking towards her. “You’re supposed to be so smart,” he said, talking only to her, as if there was no one else in the room. “You’re so proud of your damned research and your studies and when it fucking matters you can’t do a goddamn thing.” He stopped when he was nose to nose with her.

Someone tugged at her, as if to pull her away but she refused to budge. Angry and irrational as he was, he was still James. And James wouldn’t hurt her. He’d cut off his other arm first.

They stood like that for a long, tense moment, glaring at each other while the rest of them stood on edge. Then Amanda reached out and knocked a clipboard off the lab table with a clatter, making everyone jump.

“I don’t feel any better,” she said softly, holding James’s gaze. “Do you?”

His jaw clenched but he took a step back. Then turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Everyone in the room seemed to take a deep breath and Amanda sagged against the lab table, taking off her glasses to cover her eyes with a hand.

After a long silence, someone cleared their throat and Banner said, “I don’t understand. You were prepped for a kidnapping. Hydra wants the serum. Why would they come in shooting?”

“There were trying to take out Steve and Bucky,” Wilson said. “Get her alone.”

“No.” That was Barton. “The first shot was for Doc. Right at her head. They wanted her dead.” Amanda rubbed at her eyes and looked at him. “If they can’t have her and her research, no one can.”

“You’re confined to the Tower until further notice,” Hill said.

Well, there went the agoraphobia therapy. “All right,” was all she said.

“Any equipment you need,” Stark said. “Ask and it’s yours.”

This, at least, she could answer. “His heart is beating and he’s breathing on his own, so it’s only a matter of keeping an IV in him for dehydration and nourishment. I can handle it here for a while but if this becomes prolonged. . . we need to talk about finding a long-term facility for him.” Healthy, Steve would have another sixty years left. The coma would shorten that, but they were still looking at decades of care.

Stark nodded, looking as grim and serious as she’d ever seen him. “We’ll get it done.”

They filed out fairly soon after that, Nat and Hill pausing to give her a hug and pat on the back, respectively. Then she was alone in her infirmary, save for the quiet beeping coming from the machines attached to Steve.

She occupied herself with picking up her papers and moving her terminal and such over to the lab table. She’d order a new desk in the morning. Whenever that happened to be.

When the mess was more or less cleaned up she went in to check on Steve. Nothing had changed, of course, but it made her feel a little better. She reassured herself that everything was set up correctly and his monitors were functioning. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Dr. Newbury?”

“Can you set it up so any changes to these monitors are reported to me immediately?”

There was a slight pause. “Notifications will be sent to your phone, email and I will personally inform you as long as you are within my range.”

As she was now officially on house arrest in the Tower that shouldn’t be a problem. “Thank you, JARVIS.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Dr. Newbury?”

She sank down into her desk chair, which had been knocked to one side during James’ little fit. She was still in the remains of her suit, now ruined beyond hope. The knees of her pants were scuffed and torn from kneeling in the parking lot and stiff from dried blood. She’d lost her shoes and jacket somewhere and her silk shell was stained with sweat and blood. She should go upstairs and shower. Her scrubbing in at the hospital hadn’t been nearly sufficient.

Her stomach felt queasy again and she rubbed it idly, trying to remember the last time she’d eaten.

“Where is Sergeant Barnes?” she asked the AI.

“He is in your apartment, doctor.”

Right. Shower could probably wait. She leaned her head back on the back of her chair. “I’m having a very bad day, JARVIS.”

“There have been a lot of those lately,” JARVIS offered.

“Yeah,” she said softly. Closing her eyes, she let herself feel every moment of the day that she’d bee repressing. “JARVIS, do you have emotions?”

“Is this really the time for existential inquiry?”

Amanda chuckled. “I don’t have anything better to do right now.”

There was a pause as, she assumed, the AI thought about the question. “I do not believe I experience emotion the way you do. But I do experience certain. . . reactions to stimuli. I get frustrated when ignored. I feel a certain protectiveness for Mr. Stark and the others under my care. I am fond of all of you.” A pause. “I believe I missed Mr. Stark when he was captured all those years ago.”

“That kind of sounds like emotion, JARVIS.”

“I will take your word for it, Dr. Newbury.”

She smiled and opened her eyes. “Can you bring up everything we have on Dr. Abraham Erskine’s research on my terminal in here?”

“Of course, Dr. Newbury.”

She spent the rest of the night reading through every bit of work Erskine had done, from formal papers to personal diaries. She had read just about all of it before at one time or another, either in school or while working on her formula. Still, maybe there was something she’d missed, or forgotten, or hadn’t seemed relevant the first time but would now be the key.

Eventually, the words began to blur and her head hurt from lack of sleep and stress. So she bit the bullet, looked in on Steve on more time and headed up to her apartment.  
 She half expected it to be trashed when she walked in, but nothing seemed out of place. James wasn’t in the living room, or their bedroom. Not quite ready for a confrontation, she took a hot shower with all the soap and shampoo she had, then dressed in the star pajamas he had given her so long ago and went looking for him.

The spare bedroom was a bit of a catch all room. She had a desk in there that she rarely used. James had some free weights and she stored spare yarn and such. Most of it was taken up with Panzer’s crate and ridiculously luxurious dog bed. There she found James, curled up on the bed with an arm around the dog, apparently asleep.

Amanda took a couple steps into the room, heart aching for him. Panzer whined softly and she crouched down to pat him. “Good boy,” she whispered. “You take good care of him, huh?” There was a gentle thumping of the dog’s tail wagging.

There was a mostly completed blanket hanging over the back of the desk chair - she just needed to weave the yarn ends in. She tugged it down and covered James and Panzer with it, then stood to go.

Cool metal fingers wrapped gently around her ankle before she could take a step. His thumb stroked the side of her ankle. “Don’t go.”

She eased herself back down, kneeling next to him, then tucking her legs to one side as he let her go. He shifted, letting go of Panzer to wrap an arm around her and rest his head on her lap, face pressed into her stomach.

This was going far better than she’d hoped it would, even if she did feel like crying. “I’m sorry I can’t fix him,” she said softly, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, voice muffled in her shirt. “I shouldn’t have said it. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It’s all right.” And it was. She’d known he wasn’t angry at her. She’d been an easy outlet for anger and fear and frustration. Sometimes it was the people closest to you that took the brunt of such things. She picked a knot out of his hair with her fingers. “You just have to remember I’m on your side.”

He nodded and tugged her closer. “I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t wake up.”

If his hair got any longer he could start wearing a ponytail again. He’d pulled it back in a little knot or loop when he’d first gotten to the Tower, but had cut it soon after and kept it shaggy but not long ever since. She rather liked it a little longer, to her surprise. “I’m going to do everything I can to help him,” she said softly. “If it takes the rest of my life.”

He nodded again and they sat in silence for a while. Amanda stroked his hair, tugging out knots and smoothing it out. “Come to bed?” she asked finally.

With a soft sigh he shifted, sitting up and together they helped each other to their feet. Without a word, he wrapped his arm around her and they walked to the bedroom. He nudged her onto her side and tucked himself behind her, wrapping her up in his arms and burying his face in her hair. And that was how they fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The next few days passed in a dull fog, as far as Bucky was concerned. Amanda made him eat when she wasn’t busy in the labs, Nat and Barton did the rest of the time. He spent most of his days by Steve’s bed, hoping for some sort of progress or change. There wasn’t any, and every day he grew more frustrated and afraid.

Amanda was usually busy. As best he could tell all her research and studies had been put on hold and now all of her focus, as well as that of her techs, was focused on helping Steve. She’d sworn she would find an answer and he believed her. If there was anyone in the world who could wake Steve up it was her.

His real worry was that there wasn’t any way to wake him up. People didn’t wake up from comas, did they? Maybe once in a while there was a miracle that made the news. But most of the time it seemed like comas were comas.

And of course the real problem, the one no one was talking about, was what if he woke up and wasn’t Steve anymore? Amanda said he had brain damage from the oxygen deprivation. It was entirely possible some of that would be permanent.

He’d asked Amanda about that when she was in taking a sample of Steve’s blood. She’d looked grief stricken for a moment and told him she could only worry about one crisis at a time. It wasn’t the comforting lie he might have liked, but it was the truth. There was no point in worrying about it if Steve wasn’t even awake yet.

Amanda pressed an energy bar into his hand and bent to kiss his temple. “There’s a meeting, we should go.”

He tipped his head back against her stomach. “I am really not in the mood for a meeting.”

“Maria thinks they found the men who’re after me.”

All right, that was worth pausing his vigil for. He stood, tearing open the wrapper on the energy bar and taking a bite. It was one of hers, peanut butter and chocolate flavored. “Is this the kind that’s especially formulated for women?” he asked skeptically.

“Yes. It’ll help your cramps and make your hair soft and luxurious.” She said it entirely straight-faced and it took him a moment to be certain she was teasing.

“My hair could use the help,” he muttered, taking another bite.

Hill was running the meeting. Other than Bucky and Amanda there was just Barton, Nat, and Stark. Stark liked meetings about as much as Bucky did, so either he was still pissed about Hydra coming at them head on or he was really bored. 

The hit list was longer than he’d expected. Eight men, all confirmed Hydra, all former higher ups in SHIELD. Three were scientists and one a doctor, but the rest were all ops or former field agents. They had confirmed locations for two, suspected locations on five and one was in the wind.

Bucky flipped through the folder Hill had passed him, memorizing pictures and names. “How did you find them?”

“Good old fashioned police work. We still have the leaked files and keep a running list of known high level agents. Coulson has a handful of double agents and moles still planted, as well as a couple captured low level squids.” She waved her file. “These men were involved in the serum program, both in SHIELD and Hydra. They’re all high enough on the food chain to be in charge of other agents and running cells.”

“I know him,” Amanda said softly, looking down at one of the scientists. “We worked together at the Trisk.”

“He knew about your serum work?” Hill asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. We talked about it a few times. He had similar interests.” Bucky reached over and touched the back of her hand with a finger. She cast him a little smile. “It’s all right. We all had friends on the other side.”

He squeezed her hand and looked back at Hill. “What’s the plan for taking them out?”

“Right now we’re focusing on surveillance, see if they can lead us to any bigger fish.”

“But then we’re going to blow them up, right?” Stark asked, the first thing he’d said since sitting down. Bucky had been half convinced he hadn’t heard a word and was merely checking his email.

Hill hesitated. “Eventually we will take them out.”

Bucky really didn’t like that eventually. “Why not now? What happened to _civis Romanus_?”

“We did the scorched earth method,” she said. “We sent our message. We can’t just assassinate a bunch of Hydra agents. Not when watching them for a while can get us more intel.” She looked at Stark before he could respond. “You hired me because I’m good at logistics. Sometimes you have to look at the big picture. Taking down Hydra is going to be a marathon, not a sprint.”

The meeting wrapped up soon after that, with no one looking particularly happy. He brought his file back down to the infirmary so he could continue to glare at it by Steve’s bedside.

Amanda left him alone, other than to bring him a bottle of water and a cup of coffee. He didn’t miss the look of concern she gave him when she did so, though. 

She came back about an hour later to check Steve’s monitors. “He wouldn’t want you to go off and hunt them down alone.”

“How did you know that’s what I was thinking?” he asked finally looking up from the file.

“I know you.” She finished recording the last of the readings in Steve’s chart and hung it on the end of his bed before coming over to kiss Bucky’s temple. “San Francisco, Hesse the creepy Hydra guy?” She stroked his hair back, rubbing his shoulder. “You do your lone wolf thing to a tee.”

He slid an arm around her hips, tugging her close for a moment. “I brought you along on that lone wolf trip.”

“Yes, you did. And look how well it turned out. If you’d gone alone you might never have come back.”

That. . . that was actually a good point. Without Amanda there to snap him out of his conditioning he could have gone back to being Hydra’s weapon. It was why they now made an effort to keep him out of ear shot of high level Hydra operatives. Which all of the men in the file were.

He sighed and pressed his face against her, inhaling her tropical scent. She was right. He knew she was right. But that did nothing to temper his desire to go off reservation and take some head shots.

Finally, he lifted his head and stood, kissing her lightly. “I’m going to take a walk. Sort myself out.”

She studied him a moment, as if trying to read his thoughts. Then she seemed to come to some sort of decision and pecked his cheek. “All right. I’ll see you later.”

He fully intended to go upstairs and get Panzer and take a long walk with him. Hopefully it would clear his head and dispel some of the restless energy he could feel building in his limbs. But once he got to the Avenger apartment floor he didn’t go into his door. Instead, he found himself standing outside the door next to it.

It was still a bad idea. It was a really bad idea. Steve would disapprove. 

Bullshit, Steve singlehandedly infiltrated a Hydra base on the off chance Bucky was still alive. He was the king of going off reservation. Even if he might not entirely approve of cold blooded assassination.

He lifted a hand and knocked on the door in front of him, relieved when Barton answered instead of Nat. The archer raised a brow slightly.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Come hunting with me?”

Barton smiled a little, as if he’d been waiting for this visit. “Let me pack a bag.”

An hour later they were in one of the motor pool SUVs, half their arsenal in the trunk, heading north through upstate New York, heading for the first address on their list. It was then, with the city in the rearview, far enough away he didn’t think she could talk him out of it, Bucky called Amanda.

“Hey, honey. Are you still on your walk?”

He looked skyward, feeling a pang of guilt. “Barton and I are going on a hunting trip. We’ll be gone for a few days.”

The silence on the other end of the line was sudden and complete. He couldn’t even hear her breathing. Finally, she said, “I congratulate you on adhering to the letter of my advice, if not the spirit.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, happy she didn’t sound particularly pissed. “I just. . . need to do something.”

She sighed. “I know. I know. And this probably is healthier than sitting here and staring at him.” Another sigh and he could almost see her straightening her shoulders. “Be careful, watch each other’s backs. Did you bring a first aid kit?”

“Yes. One of yours and the one in the car.”

“Good. Call me if you need anything. Otherwise I assume I have no knowledge of your whereabouts?”

“That would probably be best, yes.” He paused, glancing at Barton, then figured he’d understand and added, “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you, too, Jamie.” He did love when she called him that. “I’ll see you when your hunt is over.”

*

James had been gone for over a week. Amanda had no idea where he and Barton were, though they’d checked in with her and Natasha twice so that they knew they were still alive. It was stressful, missing him, not knowing how his mission was going. She also had to admit she felt better knowing he was taking out the men who’d been responsible for her kidnapping and Steve’s shooting. She supposed she had a bit of Old Testament justice in her.

Steve hadn’t improved. He hadn’t degraded, either, which she had decided was a good sign. Coma victims often saw health issues as the condition continued. She and her nurses had been doing everything they could to prevent those complications, but if the coma persisted they would need to look into finding a proper PT to help out. Which would open up a rather ugly can of worms, risking the news of Captain America being in a coma leaking to the media.

She rubbed her head, pushing into the infirmary. She couldn’t think about that right now. She needed to figure out what the hell was wrong that his serum couldn’t fix.

Two steps into the infirmary she knew that something was wrong. She had gotten used to the quiet beep of Steve’s machines and the heaviness in the air of having him a permanent resident of the exam room. Something was different this morning, though. Someone else was here.

Amanda owned a handgun, issued years ago by SHIELD when she’d started with them. It had lived in her desk at the Trisk, brought out only for target practice and the day the helicarriers fell. Currently, it lived in the gun safe under her and James’s bed. Given recent events she should really start keeping it here again.

Well, she tended to be rather good with improvised weapons. She spotted a box cutter on the end of the lab table, so she picked it up on her way into Steve’s room.

Sitting in the chair James had all but lived in the first few days was a young blonde woman in a crisp blue shirt and grey slacks. She was holding Steve’s hand in both of hers, thumb running over the back of it lightly.

Amanda froze, staring at her a moment, then politely cleared her throat.

The blonde jumped a little and turned in her chair, still holding on to Steve’s hand. “Oh. I’m sorry. I must have lost track of the time.”

Her fingers tightened and loosened on the box cutter, but she kept it down at her side for now. “How did you get in here?”

The other woman looked vaguely embarrassed. “I picked the lock.”

That actually didn’t explain how she’d gotten in the Tower. Maybe she worked for Stark? “JARVIS, who am I talking to?”

“Agent Sharon Carter,” the voice from the ceiling replied helpfully. “Formerly of SHIELD. No known Hydra ties. Great-grand niece of Agent Peggy Carter.”

That last bit seemed to make Sharon even more embarrassed. She stood, letting go of Steve’s hand to offer hers to Amanda. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I really didn’t want to meet you this way. Steve’s told me a lot about you.”

Amanda shook her hand, studying her carefully. “Are you and Steve. . . An item?”

The blonde’s cheeks pinked. “You could say that.”

Oh, when he woke up he was going to have so many questions to answer. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. He never. . . I have dinner with him at least once a week and he never mentioned he was seeing someone.”

Sharon clasped her hands in front of her, twisting her fingers a little. “We didn’t want to make it known just yet. We were still very new and with his history with my aunt. . .”

“You thought James and Stark would tease the hell out of you?” Amanda offered.

That got her a small, relieved smile. “Something like that.”

“Well. It’s very nice to meet you now.” She gestured back to her desk. “Would you like some tea? I can update you on his condition.”

Sharon’s smile widened. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

Amanda led her back to her desk - newly purchased and still shiny - and started fixing tea in the little single shot brewer James had given her for her last birthday. As she worked she explained the parameters of Steve’s coma and the layman’s terms of what she was seeing in his readings and tests. By the time she was done the tea was ready and she brought it over, setting one cup in front of Sharon before sitting with her own. “Can I ask how long you two have been seeing each other?”

The younger woman blew lightly on her tea and tried a sip. “We met two years ago, actually, before SHIELD fell. I was assigned to keep an eye on him. Moved in across the hall from his apartment, made sure nothing happened to him. He actually asked me out the day Fury was shot and I had to say no, to keep my cover.” She sighed. “And then it got blown a few minutes later, when I heard the gun shots.” She shook her head and looked at Amanda. “He was so angry with me. I guess he felt betrayed, like I’d lied to him. I thought . . . well I thought he’d never speak to me again. And then the carriers came down and the Trisk fell.”

“I was there,” Amanda told her. “When they went down. Though I’d never met him before that.”

“He told me you worked triage in the park afterwards. I was lucky, I came out uninjured. Well, mostly.” Sharon tilted one arm to show Amanda a thin white scar on her forearm, then sipped her tea again. “I liked him then. But it was in a sort of hero worship way. Aunt Peggy had told me all about him, from the time I was a little girl. And then there he was. . . it was a bit like meeting Santa. Or Prince Charming, I guess would be a better comparison. All I could do was stare. I mean, he’s _Captain America_.”

Amanda laughed a little, because she completely understood. “I’ve known him a while now. And dating James I see him at his most Steve, I suppose you could say. But when I was kidnapped, he helped rescue me. I walked through a door and there he was, with the shield and the outfit and he scooped me up because my knee was hurt and goddamn if he wasn’t Captain America.”

Sharon grinned. “Exactly. I just wrote it off as an odd little chapter in my life. Went to work at the CIA and watched Avenger stories on the news in case I spotted him. Then, a couple months later, Aunt Peggy died and it didn’t feel right to bury her without him there. So I did everything I could to track him down and let him know. He came to the funeral and we went out of coffee after and just talked. Said our apologies for what had happened before. He was his most Steve then, you know? He was still trying to find Bucky, so we exchanged email addresses. I didn’t think much of it, but a couple of days later he sent me a note and we started corresponding.”

“That’s very 1940s,” Amanda offered.

“Isn’t it?” She sipped her tea again and Amanda had the distinct impression that she was relieved to finally be able to talk to someone about it. “Over time the emails got a lot more familiar. Flirtier. I suspected he was, you know, courting me. But I didn’t know if anything was really going to come from it. Then after your kidnapping and rescue he just showed up at my door and kissed the hell out of me. Told me life - even his life - was too short to have regrets.”

“That is also very 1940s.”

Sharon smiled fondly. “A lot of him is.” She glanced back over her shoulder towards Steve’s room. “Please be honest. Is he going to wake up?”

“I don’t know,” Amanda said honestly. “I’m doing everything I can, but I don’t know why the serum isn’t fixing him.” Sharon nodded, swallowing hard and looking back at her tea. Impulsively, Amanda reached in her desk and pulled out her jar of lollipops and slid it towards the other woman.

She laughed a little and dug out a lolly, unwrapping it. “So, is Bucky going to tease me now?”

Amanda pulled out a candy of her own. “Maybe. Right now he’s off the reservation tracking down the men who were responsible for my capture and Steve’s injury.”

“Alone?” Sharon sounded honestly concerned.

“He took Clint Barton with him. I trust them to watch each other’s backs.”

“Good.” Her face hardened a little. “I hope they get them.”

“Those two? They will. They may or may not know what hit them. But I have no doubt they’ll all be dead before they come home.” Amanda sucked on her lollypop. “Occasionally, an eye for an eye feels very justified.”

Sharon stayed over an hour, chatting and eating lollys and drinking tea. By the time she had to leave Amanda had invited her to come back any time and had made mental note to tell the other ladies about her to get her an invite to the Wives Club.

“Would you like a lolly for the road?” she asked, waving the jar.

Sharon smiled and held up a hand. “Thank you, but no. Besides, I think you need them more than me. You’ve eaten half the vanilla ones.”

Amanda was about to correct her - she hated the vanilla ones - but a glance down at her trash can confirmed she had, in fact plowed through half a dozen of them. “Huh.”

She managed a vague goodbye to Sharon, still staring at the wrappers, then the vanilla lolly in her hand. For the first time in what felt like weeks, her stomach wasn’t queasy at all.

Her mind seemed to split into several different pieces. One was going through every disease of the gastrointestinal tract that she knew. Another was trying to convince her that they’d changed the vanilla ones somehow and now they tasted better. A third was doing math on a mental calendar and not liking what it saw.

A fourth part apparently had control of her limbs and had walked her into one of the exam rooms. When Pepper got pregnant Stark had eagerly bought her a top of the line ultrasound machine. Amanda had gotten pretty good with it, despite not being an OB. Pepper had liked regular reassurances that the baby was still in there and healthy.

Amanda fired up the machine, then hopped on the table, tugging her jeans down. This was silly, she tried to convince herself as she smeared goo on the paddle. There were all kinds of other logical explanations. It was just candy.

Watching the screen on the ultrasound, she found what she was looking for. A little black blob, with a smaller blob in the center. And in that, very clearly, was a fetus, with a head, body, two legs and and two arms. As Amanda watched, it gave a little wiggle, stretching its arms out.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sharon's story will be told in _Lifelong Love Letter_ by NyxEtoile and OlivesAwl, which begins posting tomorrow.
> 
> A bunch of you guessed the pregnancy thing. Smarties! I'm going to stop leaving clues if you keep guessing. :P


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to OlivesAwl for the assist with the Emergency Wives Club Meeting.

Amanda stared at the strip of pictures she’d printed off the ultrasound. On auto-pilot, she dug in her jar and found a vanilla lolly and popped it in her mouth. Her brain felt like it had stalled, like a flooded engine. She needed to think. She needed to make a plan and figure out-

_"You don't always have to be strong.”_

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, tucking her fingers under her glasses. Then she pulled up her email and drafted a note to the Wives Club.

_I need to call an emergency meeting. I need advice._ She sent it off before she could think better of it and leaned back, sucking her lolly while she waited for responses.

Pepper replied first. It was, perhaps, the single most ironic email she'd ever received in her entire life. _Free advice: Don't get pregnant. Otherwise I'm available any time after two._

Amanda took a moment to thump her head against the desk. Long enough that Natasha chimed in she could make it after two and Jane and Darcy agreed.

_Pepper's at two fifteen?_ she suggested. She wasn't touching the pregnant comment till they were in the same room.

The rest of the day ticked by uselessly, and Amanda was glad that they hadn't all proposed "tomorrow" as a meeting time. She got up there a little early, finding only Pepper. The elegantly and very modernly appointed living room of the Stark Penthouse had acquired a giant leather recliner at some point in Pepper's pregnancy, and she sat in it, a table of snacks on one side, a table of paperwork and a laptop on the other. She had a big mug with straw in it sitting on her bump.

The image hit Amanda particularly hard, causing the conflicting emotions of panic and longing to war in her. She rubbed her forehead and came in, sinking on the couch. "How is her majesty today?"

"Trying to fight her way out like the thing in Alien." As if to punctuate the statement, Pepper's mug wobbled as if it had been knocked from beneath. 

"You're the one who mated with Stark." Amanda turned to see Hill stepping out of the elevator, Natasha behind her. "You're lucky there's nothing in there for her to build a suit with."

"It would probably make Tony feel better if there was. I'm kind of glad I'm so useless, given how nervous he gets when I leave the Tower." Stark's paranoia had been a side effect of Amanda's kidnapping. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to hurt him through her. And babies were infinitely more vulnerable.

"How goes the bodyguard hunt?" Natasha asked, sitting next to Amanda.

"All of the best candidates are going to scare the other children off the playground."

"Clint and I have put out feelers to some old . . . associates. I'll let you know if anything shakes out."

"You're sure you don't want the job?" Pepper asked with an almost adorably hopeful face. Nat just pursed her lips and shook her head slowly.

The elevator opened again to reveal Jane and Darcy, each carrying a tray of Starbucks. Darcy had a box from the bakery across the street. "We figured emergency meeting probably required sugar."

"Sugar," Pepper echoed with a wistful sigh. She had acquired literally the entire menu of pregnancy complications, gestational diabetes included. Amanda reminded herself that really wasn't typical. She'd already apparently skipped over the morning-is-just-a-metaphor sickness that had practically crippled Pepper early on. 

Jane pulled a smaller bag out from behind her back. "Sugar-free raspberry sorbet from the gelato place?" she offered to Pepper.

"And this is why you are my friends." She gestured at the couch. "Sit, so Amanda can talk."

They handed out drinks and opened the bakery box for people to sample. Amanda stared at her chai tea a moment and wondered how much caffeine was in it. And how many times she'd eaten sushi in the last two months. Well, she took a multi vitamin fairly regularly. And the ultra sound hadn't shown any major issues. . .

Everyone was staring at her expectantly. She took a deep breath, trying to think how to ease into it and instead blurted out, "I'm pregnant, it was in no way planned and I have no idea how to tell James." Whenever he got back from his tour of assassination.

What she got back was stunned silence. Finally Darcy blurted out, "Wow, you do have a lot of sex." Jane smacked her hard with the back of her hand.

Amanda buried her face in her palms with a groan. After another moment Nat asked, "How long. . ."

"Over ten weeks. It must have been right after the kidnapping. My birth control lapsed and I didn't even think of it. And yes, we were having a lot of sex right then."

"Sorry," Darcy said. "I didn't mean anything by it. It's just, you know, the running joke."

"Do you want to keep it?" Maria asked. 

Well, wasn't that the million dollar question. "I didn't think I'd have kids," she said quietly. "Every year it seemed less likely. I made peace with it. Even after James. . . we never talked about it. Not really." She sighed and thought about the wiggly little jelly bean on the ultra sound screen. "Yes. I want to keep it."

"Then you'll figure it out," Pepper said. "People do this every day." She paused. "Somebody told me that, like, last week."

"Most people don't do it with a 100 year old, one armed super soldier whose best friend is in a coma while dealing with their own PTSD," Amanda said. Jesus, when you said it all in one go like that it sounded worse than it had in her head.

"Is it going to be a super soldier?" Jane asked a little timidly.

Oh, there was the other million dollar question. "No way to be sure until it's born. But probably not. The serum effects their cells but not their DNA at its core."

"Maybe it's also a dose of needed good news. Something for you guys to feel positive about," Darcy said. "Babies are, you know, generally good."

"James once described babies as small, loud, and confusing."

There was a pause, then Maria offered, "He's not _wrong_."

"Tony has said a lot of terrible things about them over the years," Pepper commented. "Yet here we are."

Amanda stared at her Starbucks cup a moment, then looked at Nat. "What do you think?"

Her brows went up. "I think I'm not the right person to ask."

"You and Barton are probably the closest in temperament and experience to James. What would you do? How do you think he'd react?"

She watched Nat think about that, and then answer with obvious honestly. "I might wrestle with it and second guess right up until the day it was no longer legal to terminate. I think Clint would go sit on the roof for four hours, maybe go upstate and shoot things for a while, not answer his damn phone, and come home two days later when I'm ready to literally wring his neck out of worry. . . with the contents of an entire Babies R Us in the trunk of the SUV."

The women all chuckled and Amanda managed the first real smile she'd had since Sharon had left.

Nat added, "And I think you're wrong about us being the closest to Bucky's reaction. Neither of us had happy childhoods. Any baby we had would come burdened with those memories and fears. Bucky grew up in a loving family and a close-knit neighborhood. He probably always knew he'd settle down and have kids. His adult life might have been shit but he knows what family is. If you want to know how he'd react I think you should keep that in mind."

That settled on her like a heavy cloak, comforting and real. Silence stretched a moment, then Darcy said, "It's going to have great hair."

That actually made Amanda chuckle. "Very true." She looked up. "So will yours." Darcy and her boyfriend—who had very messy, curly hair—had just moved in together, so kid jokes were probably okay given the context.

"Their hair will need lawn care equipment," she replied without missing a beat.

"Do you feel better?" Jane asked gently.

"I do." Surprisingly so. She looked at Pepper. "Thank you for not telling me pregnancy is awful and I'm a fool."

"If it took you this long to notice, it's probably not going to be as awful as mine. Also, no one is shooting you in the ass with progesterone every day, which is a plus. And even if the incubation period isn't fun, I'm pretty sure the baby will be worth it."

"The baby does seem to last longer," Nat said.

"Your babies can play together." Darcy pointed from Pepper to Amanda.

"They'll take over the building."

"Is there space for a ball pit?"

Pepper rubbed her eyes. "Tony is building an indoor playland. Sacrificed one of his workshop spaces for it."

"Now that's love," Maria said. "To make Tony Stark have a moment of selflessness."

"Parenthood does funny things to people, I tell you."

"Do you think he'll make mine a little hover cradle?" Amanda asked.

"I'm sure he would. The design clearly works, it's just a matter of fabrication, and he has that done automated."

"I think every mother wants their kid to have a bullet proof pod."

"You can also summon it to you," Pepper said. "I feel like I'll enjoy that if I have a c-section."

Finding solace in medical knowledge Amanda looked over at her. "Make sure whoever does it uses the glue, not the staples. Cuts healing time in half. Less than half. You'll be up and running your business again in no time."

"I will keep that in mind."

Amanda leaned over to root through the pastry box, suddenly famished. "I really appreciate you all coming up here to talk to me."

"What are friends for?" Nat asked. "We've all talked each other through stuff."

"It's so convenient having my closest friends live and work in the same building as me," Darcy said. "It's like college again."

"We are social animals," Jane said. "This is far more how we were supposed to live, rather than locked away in our private boxes."

"And now we will have two new members to the club soon." Nat gestured at the general direction of Pepper and Amanda's stomachs. Amanda decided she’d tell them about Sharon next time. One bombshell at a time.

"We'll have to censor the language," Jane said. "Darcy."

"They don't talk till they're, like, one," she said blithely.

"I've already given up on curse words," Pepper said. "You've seen who I live with."

"They're pretty much larval the first few months," Amanda added. "I'll probably need a nanny or something. I don't see James being a stay at home dad." She looked over at Pepper. "Have you lined up a nanny yet?"

Pepper groaned. "Don't get me started. Tony doesn't want a nanny. Refuses to even consider hiring one." 

They all stared at her a moment. "You're a CEO and he's an Avenger," Maria said. "How on earth does he expect that to work?"

"We both work in the building and can bring the baby with us," Pepper said, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

"Do you need me to yell at him?" Maria asked. "I will put the fear of baby raising in him, if you like."

"He may need to learn this the hard way. I am going to take an actual maternity leave, so we have time."

Darcy pulled her phone out, looked at it and nudged Jane. "We should get going. Assuming the crisis is successfully averted?"

"Yes," Amanda said gratefully. "Thank you again."

"What are friends for?"

They all got to their feet - except Pepper, of course - and Amanda hugged those who were willing. Even Maria endured a brief squeeze and muttered, "Congratulations," into Amanda's ear.

When it was just the two of them again she turned back to Pepper. "Do you need anything before I go?"

"I'm fine." She paused. "But I'm grateful for the company. They'll be close enough in age to play together."

"They will. It will be good. Especially if you decide not to have anymore."

"I'm at 'we'll see'."

Amanda smiled. "That's probably a good place to be. Get the whole experience. See if those post delivery hormones are everything they're cracked up to be."

"I will keep you posted."

She gave the other woman a little salute and headed for the elevator.

*

Bucky wasn’t sure that his trip with Barton would make a very good buddy road trip film. Unless it was one directed by Quentin Tarantino. Still, they accomplished what they’d intended to. Their list of eight was taken care of, with no doubt left as to who had been responsible. On the way back to New York they discussed making this a regular thing. Every six months heading back out to keep the fear of God and the Avengers in the bad guys. So they’d never think it was over.

Still, it had been a long two weeks, and he had never been so happy to see the Tower looming out of the skyline. It was late, close to two am, when they rolled into the underground lot. They unloaded the SUV in silence, stopping on the way up to drop their weapons off in the armory.

Outside their apartment doors Bucky held out a hand to shake Barton’s firmly. Neither of them was one for speeches or even many words at all. Everything that needed to be said was done so in a nod and handshake. As far as Bucky was concerned Barton was now on a very short list that had previously only held Amanda and Steve.

The TV was on when he stepped into the apartment, playing an infomercial at low volume. Amanda was asleep on the couch, her knitting in a tangle on her lap. Both cats lay draped on the back of the couch and Panzer was stretched out on the floor in front of her. The dog lifted his head and thumped his tail when he saw Bucky.

For a moment he just looked down at her, love so strong it was almost pain tightening his chest. She looked young and peaceful sleeping in the flickering light from the TV. He debated moving her to bed or just letting her sleep where she was. She’d probably been working nonstop while he was gone.

She solved his problem for him when she stirred and jerked awake, hands tightening on her knitting. She blinked blearily a moment, disoriented, then noticed him and her eyes widened. “James?”

He crouched down to kiss her lightly. “Hi. I’m back.”

She lifted a hand and touched his face, gaze flicking back and forth to take him all in. “You’re all right?”

Catching her hand, he kissed her palm. “I’m fine. We’re both fine. Job’s done and we’re home for good.”

“Good,” she said with a little nod.

“How’s Steve?” He almost didn’t ask. If he’d woken up she would have called him and let him know.

Her face fell, which was almost answer enough. She put her knitting aside and sat up. “He’s the same. Which isn’t as good as awake but not as bad as it could be.”

It was the answer he’d expected, but disappointment still rounded his shoulders. She sank her hand in his hair and he let her tug him close to lean on her shoulder. For a few moments he just let her comfort him, then shifted a little so he could speak. “How are you?”

She didn’t respond immediately and panic threaded through him. After everything that had been thrown at them the last few months was there really something else? Cancer ran in her family, she had regular screenings for it. Maybe there’d been one while he was gone. “‘Manda?”

She took a deep breath and said softly, “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment everything around him seemed to stop. He was certain he had misheard her. That could not possibly have been what she said. He stared at her a moment. “Are- what?”

“Eleven weeks. My birth control lapsed when I was gone and I never -” She broke off and turned, rummaging around in the lap blanket covering her and came out with a strip of pictures. She turned on the reading lamp over her head and showed him the pictures.

Stark had proudly shown off every ultra sound picture Pepper got, to anyone he came across. They had all looked like a vaguely baby shaped grey blob to Bucky’s eyes. He didn’t know if Amanda had taken more time getting this or the baby had stayed still for her. Or maybe just because it was his. But he could very clearly see the head, hands and feet.

“That’s ours?” he said softly, staring at the picture.

“It is.” Her voice was just as soft. “Too early to know the gender. But it’s healthy. Good heart beat. I saw it move.”

Heart beat. His baby had a heartbeat. He looked up at her suddenly. “Are you all right? Pepper was so sick-”

She smiled. “I’m fine. I was a little queasy on and off before but it’s getting better. Pepper is not the norm for pregnancies.”

“Good. That’s good.” A thousand thoughts and emotions spilled through him, all at the same time. He wasn’t ready for a kid. He was _so excited_ to have a kid. There was grief that Steve wouldn’t be here to see it and the hope that he still might. He and Amanda were going to need to revisit that marriage conversation again. He wondered how old it would have to be before Amanda let him teach it to shoot. Probably about as old as it would need to be for Barton to put up with it on his range. He hoped it was a boy he could take to ball games. Or a girl, with her mother’s smile and smarts.

All those thoughts and more tumbled around in his head and coalesced into one, simple, joyful fact. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

“Yes, we are.” Amanda reached out and he wrapped his arms around her. He all but lifted her off the couch in his enthusiasm. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” she admitted. “We never talked about it.”

“Babies are good,” he told her. “We’re in a good place here. We’re surrounded by friends.” Barton might not be a baby person, but Bucky would still trust him to protect their kid with his life. He leaned back and kissed her. “I needed some good news.”

That seemed to satisfy her. Tension eased out of her. “It’s due in April. I’m afraid the girls all know. Most of them have probably told their men. I’m sorry, I needed advice.”

He laughed. “It’s all right. I understand.” He tightened his arms around her again, then stood, lifting her off the couch. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”


	11. Chapter 11

They had two days of peace. At Amanda’s assurance that the baby was healthy and fine and the odds of a complication were now minimal, they officially announced her pregnancy. The three people who hadn’t known were delighted. The congratulations and excitement were enough to distract him from Amanda’s continued lack of progress with Steve’s condition. Even Stark following him around with his laundry list of misery inducing complications Pepper had had was a welcome diversion.

On his third morning back, he was woken just before dawn by a persistent pinging noise coming from JARVIS. Bucky lifted his head off the pillow enough to growl, “What?” at the general direction of the ceiling.

“Forgive me, Sergeant Barnes, but Ms. Potts needs Dr. Newbury urgently.”

In his arms, Amanda stirred and propped herself up on an elbow. “What’s wrong?”

There was a ping and Pepper’s voice came through the speakers. “Amanda?”

“Pepper? What is it?”

“I think my water broke.”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure if Amanda had heard her, there was no reaction or change in facial expression. Then she lifted a hand and rubbed her face briskly. “Are you having contractions?”

“On and off? They aren’t too bad. Tony - Tony calm down, you do not have to fly me to Mount Sinai in the suit.”

Amanda leaned into Bucky’s shoulder, smothering her laughter in his skin.

“You should go rescue her,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know, I know.” She sat up and grabbed her glasses. “I’ll be there in one minute, Pepper. Tell Stark if he wants to be useful he can pack your hospital bag.”

“It’s been packed for a month,” she said with a sigh.

“Then tell him to make me some tea, I’m on my way.”

She pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and padded out in bare feet. A moment later he heard the front door open and close. Going back to sleep seemed pointless, so he got up and showered.

By the time he came out Amanda was back and getting properly dressed. “Her water is broken,” she said when she saw him. “She’s at almost two centimeters and fully effaced. I know that means nothing to you, but she actually is in labor. They’re on their way to the hospital and I’m meeting them there.”

“Is it coming, like, now?”

“No, no. She’s got a ways to go, but they’ll feel better if I’m there. JARVIS is sending a note to the rest of the team, but if it’s okay I’ll send you texts to keep everyone posted?”

He nodded and went over to kiss her cheek. “Try not to let Stark drive you crazy.”

“Are you kidding? I’m so going to be in charge of that room.” She leaned on him a minute, as if fortifying herself for the day ahead. “Cross your fingers that her pregnancy curse does not carry over into labor.”

“Don’t want her to scare you off the experience?”

“Oh, I already know it’s ugly and undignified. I just don’t want to be part of an emergency c-section twenty eight hours from now or something.” She gave him another kiss and moved away to slip into shoes. “I love you, I’ll see you later.”

“Be safe,” he told her and then she was gone.

He walked Panzer and picked up groceries. Amanda would eat out of take out boxes all day if left to her own devices, so the cupboard had been a little bare when he’d gotten back from his trip. With her being pregnant it seemed like a good idea to start encouraging healthier eating, so he stopped at a farmer’s market for fruit and vegetables and some fresh fish.

Sitting with Steve took up most of his day. He told him the baby was coming, as if that might encourage him to wake the fuck up to see it. It didn’t work, of course.

Amanda texted him at four to tell him Pepper would probably start pushing in the next hour or so and to gather the others at their leisure. He sent out the call and they all congregated in the lobby, taking a couple of cars to Mount Sinai.

The hospital felt more like a spa or resort than a medical facility. They took up a waiting room of their own and he texted Amanda to let her know they were there.

“These waiting room vigils are usually more depressing,” Barton noted.

Banner was handing out bottled water from the vending machines. “It is nice that no one has been shot this time.”

The mood in the room was light and a little punchy. No one had much experience with labor, just that it always seemed to take forever. Thor had brought a couple decks of cards, and poker and gin rummy entertained them for a while, more so after Nat bought a bunch of candy to use for betting.

Right around when they were discussing who was going to run out and get dinner, his phone chimed. _Ruby Maria Potts-Stark. 8lbs 11oz, 21”_ Attached was a picture of a wrinkly, red faced newborn. 

Everything stopped so he could pass his phone around. The reactions were kind of hilarious. Darcy and Jane squeaked. Thor looked vaguely horrified. Barton and Nat lingered somewhere around mild interest, probably to hide their actual reactions. Banner was the last in the circle and was very hard to read, though if Bucky had to put a name to it, it most resembled grief.

The phone made it back to him and he had the thought that he should call Steve to let him know, since he wasn’t here. It was immediately followed by remembering why, exactly, he wasn’t there. The realization was like a punch to the gut and he had to close his eyes and breathe through the pain.

Now that the baby was born no one seemed entirely sure what to do with themselves. Did they go back home now? Wait till Stark brought the baby out or Pepper said it was okay to come in? He kind of doubted a woman who’d just had a baby wanted a roomful of people - most of them men - crowding around her bedside.

The concept of going out for dinner and coming back was raised and being debated when the door to the waiting room opened and Amanda stepped in with a little bundle in a white and pink blanket. “Tony and Pepper are having a couple of decompression minutes,” she said, a big smile on her face. “But they said it was okay if I introduced Ruby to her aunts and uncles.”

The girls, including Nat, amusingly enough, jumped to their feet and beelined over to coo at the baby. Bucky joined the men at a slower pace, peering over the ladies’ heads. Ruby was a bit cuter now than she’d been in the picture. He supposed Amanda or one of the nurses had cleaned her up a bit more. Jane took a turn holding her, as did Banner, oddly enough. He asked Amanda some doctory questions before handing her back.

Then she turned to Bucky, that smile still on her face. He could tell she’d been crying a bit, hopefully tears of joy at the miracle of birth and all that. “Do you want to hold her?” she asked him, then added when he balked, “You’re going to need to practice eventually.”

She probably had a point, but the baby looked way too small and delicate to be handled right now. “Maybe later.”

Amanda gave him a knowing smirk, but didn’t press the issue. “I’m strongly considering a scheduled c-section.”

He grinned. Miracle of birth not so miraculous, apparently. “Hey, I’m from the forties. I support anything I don’t need to be a birth coach for.”

“Of course.” She looked back down at the baby. “Well, I will bring her back to her mom and dad and then I heard something about dinner?”

There was a chorus of agreement from behind him before he could answer, making Amanda laugh. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, heading for the door.

They got dinner at a Japanese place a few blocks from the hospital. Feeding Thor and Bucky sushi was an expensive endeavor, but this was a special occasion. Pepper texted halfway through to ask what they were eating. Once she found out it was sushi she texted an order for her and Stark that included the phrase “all the raw fish, all of it.” Jane and Thor volunteered to bring it over while the rest of them went home.

Amanda took their leftovers to the kitchen and started making tea. “I swear, I think I’m going to sleep for a week.”

Bucky chuckled, watching from the doorway as she puttered. “Steve will be sad he missed this,” he said and was a little surprised he could get the words out in a steady voice. Amanda tossed him a sympathetic look and he shook his head. “Sorry, it just. . . occurred to me a few times today.”

“I’m so sorry, James.”

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I know you’re doing everything you can. I think it’s just my way of coming to terms with it. He’s missing. Every time something happens I feel him. . . not there. But if I ignore it I’m never going to really deal with it, so. . .” He shrugged. “Are you looking forward to being a pediatrician?” he asked, hoping she’d take the hint and change the subject.

“You know, they never asked me if I wanted to work with kids.” She turned back to her tea, obviously accepting the new topic. “I suppose they’re pretty easy. Measure, weigh, give advice. Vaccinations and booster shots. Though I’ll probably have my-” She stopped abruptly, staring down at the tin of tea leaves in her hand.

“‘Manda?” he asked cautiously when she still didn’t answer. Still no response. Actual fear began to chill his spine. “Amanda?”

She turned slowly to look at him, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Booster shots.”

“What?”

“You had booster shots.” She put the tea tin down and paced away from the counter. “I couldn’t figure out why you handled your shooting so well and Steve wasn’t. But when you were the Soldier they kept dosing you with serums. I have the files. None of them were perfect, they wouldn’t have worked alone, but they did _something_. Steve never had that.”

Pacing was usually good. Pacing meant she was working through something. “What does that mean?”

“When it became clear he wasn’t waking up I briefly considered giving him some of my formula. I rejected the idea because I was working on the assumption that the serum is self-sustaining and would attack my serum the way it would any other foreign body. But what if it’s _not_? What if it requires regular maintenance boosters? He hasn’t had one since his original dose. It’s losing effectiveness. Like a tetanus shot.”

“So if you inject him with your serum. . . it might wake him up?” Hope, fragile and cautious, started to bloom in his chest. 

Amanda was grinning. “It would jumpstart his system. Fix the brain damage that’s keeping him in the coma. God, for all I know, the _serum_ is keeping him in the coma. Like stasis.” She turned the kettle off and headed for the front door. “I’ll need to tweak ratios, try to match the formula to the one in his blood stream as best as possible.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, following her.

“To get to work.” She turned back, cupped his face and kissed him. “I’m going to fix him.”

*

Amanda remembered, very clearly, the first time she was lead on a surgery during her residency. Nerves had gripped her, even as she tried to sink into the cool, calm center of her mind that knew exactly what she was doing. There was just something about standing over a living person with a scalpel in your hand hoping you could heal and not harm that rattled a person at the core. If it didn’t. . . well, maybe that wasn’t a person who should be a surgeon.

She felt the same standing over Steve with the injection of serum in her hand.

It had taken almost two days, with her, her techs and her virologist in London working on it, to decide on the correct dosage mix to give him. Even now, it was only their best guess, based on Erskine’s notes and Steve’s blood samples.

James put a hand on her back and rubbed gently. “It’s okay. You got this.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. This was their best shot at this. She was out of ideas. Everyone on the team had agreed to it. She’d even called Sharon to explain it, considering her part of Steve’s next of kin. She’d enthusiastically consented.

So Amanda stepped forward and turned Steve’s arm. Bending, she cleaned a spot on his upper arm with alcohol and injected him with the serum booster.

“Now we wait,” she said, stepping back.

“How long?” James asked, wrapping an arm around her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I don’t know. Twenty four hours at least. If it’s going to work I’d expect to see some sort of response by then.” 

He nodded and gave her a little squeeze. “I believe in you.”

She left him sitting with Steve and went back to the outer room to text Sharon that the serum had been administered. She tried to focus on work while they waited. 

The FDA had agreed to waive the formal presentation of her findings, but they still weren’t going to allow human trials without clear insight into her methods. So she, Tiffani, Pooja and two graphic designers from Stark’s PR department were working on a keynote slide deck to work as a virtual presentation. It was hard work and she was going to owe the graphic designers some sort of expensive presents when they were done, but it meant she didn’t have to go back to the FDA building. Everyone seemed pretty confident that Barton and James had successfully put the fear of the Avengers into those who were after her, but she was currently unwilling to test it.

About two hours in, she noticed the monitor that showed Steve’s vitals was starting to change pattern. At the same moment, James yelled her name from the other room and JARVIS started informing her there was a change in Captain Rogers’s vitals.

“Yes, thank you,” she called, getting up and sprinting into Steve’s room. “What’s happening?”

“His hand moved,” James said. “I swear to God, his moved his hand.”

She nudged him gently out of the way and did a brief exam. His reflexive eye movements were immediate and when she dug a knuckle into the angle of his jaw he flinched slightly. “Holy shit,” she muttered. “Pull that over,” she told James, pointing at the EEG machine. 

He caught it with his foot and slung it towards her. She hooked up the sensors in record time and turned it on, then ran to her desk and got the print out from his last one to compare.

After a couple minutes of watching the monitor she repeated, in a far more positive tone. “Holy shit.”

“Is that good?” James asked.

“His brain activity is coming back. Rapidly. It’s improved since I hooked the machine up.” She looked at him. “I think it worked.”

“Why isn’t he awake?”

She glanced back at Steve. “I think he’s working on it. The brain is still repairing itself. Once it’s done. . . he should regain consciousness.” She folded up the EEG read out. “I’m going to leave this on him so we can monitor.”

“Call Sharon,” James said and she looked at him in surprise. “She should be here when he wakes up. I don’t want her to feel she needs to stay away.”

Amanda kissed his cheek on the way out. “You’re a good friend,” she told him. She pulled out her phone and texted Sharon. _Brain activity is improving. You’re welcome to come over and wait with James and I._

There was no reply but less than ten minutes later Sharon appeared in the infirmary doorway. “I was down the block at a diner.”

Yeah, Sharon was going to fit right in here. She ushered her into Steve’s room and James went and fetched a second chair for her while Amanda checked the readings. 

When Sharon took Steve’s hand in both of hers the lines on the EEG spiked and his fingers curled around hers. The blonde gasped softly and James’s face split into a grin.

Less than thirty minutes later, Steve opened his eyes.

There was a tense moment when he blinked in confusion and looked around, taking in James’s grin and Sharon’s worried frown. His brows went up in recognition, then he smiled. “Hi.”

Tears welled up in Sharon’s eyes and she smiled, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles. “Hey there.”

Amanda stepped out into the main room before the pregnancy hormones made her cry too. A moment later James followed her, yanking the curtain closed behind him. “They need a moment,” he said, looking as if he’d just walked in on his parents in bed.

She laughed. “I’ll wait on the cognitive testing, then.”

“He certainly remembers her.” James stepped towards her and cupped her face in his hands. “You did it,” he said softly. “You fixed him.”

“I promised you I would.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, then leaned in and kissed her tenderly. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her again, deeper. “Marry me.”

She laughed a little, because she didn’t know what else to do. “You’re proposing _now_?”

“The last few months have been the worst since I woke up. But we made it through. It was rough and hard but we did it. Together. I want you by my side for anything else that comes our way. Good or bad. I want to raise our baby and grow old together and just be together. I want you to be my wife.”

For a woman who had packed away any thoughts of marriage a long time ago, it was a far more romantic proposal than she’d ever thought to have. She smiled, tears welling up. Damned hormones.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. “Then I suppose my answer is yes.”


	12. Chapter 12

Steve was moved out of the infirmary and back to his apartment later that day, with Sharon to take care of him. Amanda gave them some space before going up the next day to run some more tests and tell him what his recovery would look like. He seemed most thrown by her ordering him to go on vacation. At least, until Sharon offered to go with him.

The next week was spent documenting the success of her serum on waking him up and going shopping with Sharon and the Wives Club. She found herself suddenly in dire need of maternity clothes and Sharon felt a trip to Italy deserved some new outfits.

“No,” she assured the other woman, letting them in to her apartment after a particularly successful trip. “I don’t think one can own too many pairs of shoes.”

“They did make my calves look especially sexy,” Sharon conceded with a grin.

Their menfolk were on the couch, huddled around James’s laptop. “Honey, we’ve talked about porn in the living room.”

“As if Steve and I would have the same taste in porn.” He tilted his face up to kiss her while Steve leaned away to do the same to Sharon. “How was shopping?”

“I feel prepared to turn into a blimp. What are you two up to?”

“Looking at wedding venues.”

She felt her brows go up. “Seriously?”

“Well, window shopping.”

“There was also mocking,” Steve admitted, trying to peek in Sharon’s shopping bags. “People get married in weird places.”

“I hear some people do it sky diving.” She kissed him again and went to take her bags into the bedroom. It seemed like a good opportunity to change into some of her new pants. Maternity pants were the best invention ever and she fully intended to wear nothing but for the rest of her life.

When she came back out Steve was leaning over to look at something on James’s computer. “They turned that into a wedding venue?”

“It still looks like a theater inside, too,” James said. “What did we go see there?”

“Lots of things. Hell, I practically lived there when I was a teenager.”

“No, no. We went on a date there. With girls,” James added hastily before Amanda could open her mouth. “Sisters. Mine was a brunette with-” He started to gesture by his chest.

“The Sinclair girls?” Steve said, swatting James’s hand down.

“Yes! They made us go see that depressing Bette Davis movie. Where she gets cancer.”

Steve squinted. “With Bogart?”

Amanda looked over at Sharon. “It’s so cute when they turn into reminiscing old men.”

“His old fogeyness was one of the things that drew me to him,” the younger woman said, reaching over to rub Steve’s leg.

Yes, Sharon was going to fit in just fine. Amanda leaned over to kiss James’s head. “The movie you are thinking of is Dark Victory.” The men both groaned in recognition. “What are you looking at?”

“The Garden theater,” James told her, pointing to the screen of his computer. “Steve and I used to go there all the time and apparently now it’s a historical event venue.”

She leaned closer to study the pictures. It was certainly the right size for the number of people they were expecting to invite. The pictures showed a well maintained and beautifully restored old theater, with murals on the walls and ceiling and an enormous chandelier.

James and Steve often reminisced when they got together, but rarely was it so completely positive. Steve hadn’t even talked about getting beat up in the alley behind it.

Double checking the name, she pulled out her phone and dialed Pepper. “Hi,” she said when the other woman answered. “I’ve picked a wedding venue. How would you like to repay me for my obstetrician duties by abusing your power?”

*

Eighteen days before Christmas, Bucky stood at the front of the old Garden Theater in Brooklyn and promised to love, honor and protect Amanda in front of eight-seven of their closest friends and family. When he let himself think about it, it was very surreal. He had crisp, clear, if disjointed memories of coming to the theater to watch films. With Steve, with dates, with his parents. For him, it only seemed like a couple of years ago. Except it had been eighty years ago and now he was here marrying a woman he should never have met.

Her brother-in-law had made her dress in a month, cutting it expertly around her growing baby bump. She had fussed and fidgeted about being a pregnant bride in the week leading up to the ceremony. When she came down the aisle on her father’s arm she was absolutely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The rest of the crowd melted away and it was just them, promising each other forever.

When the judge told him he could kiss her what could he do but dip her?

They had dinner and their first dance and found themselves out of the way chairs to watch the reception, much the way they had at her sister’s wedding all those months ago. Amanda slumped on his side so he could wrap on arm around her shoulders and cover her belly with his other hand. “It doesn’t feel real,” he murmured into her hair.

“We haven’t signed the certificate yet, we can still back out.”

“Pain in the ass,” he said affectionately, kissing her head. “Are you happy, Dr. Barnes?”

“I am extremely happy, Sergeant Barnes.” She covered the hand on her belly with hers. “It was a hell of a year.”

“We made it through. Still not sure how, really.”

She leaned back to look at him. “We did it together. With help from our friends. Like we’ll do everything else, I suppose.”

There was some sort of poetic justice in that, he supposed. He’d been alone so long. A ghost, the Winter Soldier. Now he didn’t think he could be alone if he wanted to be.

He scanned the room and spotted Barton and Natasha sitting at a table with Dr. Banner, eating cake and laughing. Next to them, Stark and Pepper were showing off Ruby, in what he was pretty sure was the third fluffy dress of the evening. Rhodey and his wife were obligingly tickling the little girl’s toes. He spotted Jane and Thor on the dance floor, moving carefully so he didn’t step on her toes.

Steve and Sharon were out there, too, tanned and rested from their Italian vacation. He looked like he was telling her a story, or possibly insisting he was a terrible dancer. And she was smiling and laughing and looking at him like he was the only man in the world. Bucky felt a surge of happiness for his friend. Steve deserved love, more than anyone. Even if it took a coma for him to admit it.

Bucky nudged Amanda’s head with his chin so she would look at Steve and Sharon. “I’ll give you fifty bucks if you toss your bouquet right at her.”

“We’re married now, your money is my money and vice versa.” She grinned at him. “You’ll have to do better.”

“Foot rub?”

“Got a deal, Sergeant.”

Under his hand something shifted, almost imperceptibly. He jumped a little and looked down. “Was that-?”

Amanda laughed and rubbed the underside of the swell. “It was. Baby girl was saying hello.”

He leaned down to drop a kiss on her stomach. “Hi, darlin’.”

Amanda squeaked and he felt another bump against his hand, firmer this time. He gave his wife - and wouldn’t that take a while to get used to - a grin and kissed her. “I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I love you, too, Jamie.” He was pretty sure there were tears in her eyes and she had to swallow hard before she could speak again. “More than anything.”

Twenty minutes later, Amanda tossed the bouquet and it sailed neatly into Sharon Carter’s hands. Steve turned a hilarious shade of red and Amanda winked at him and Bucky was pretty sure it was officially the best day of his life.

They honeymooned at a mountain resort in the Adirondacks. It was secluded and snowy and beautiful. They spent most of their time in their room or on the enclosed patio watching snow drift down onto the frozen over lake. It was peaceful and calm and reviving. He felt like a whole new person when they returned to the Tower in the new year.

Things went more or less back to normal. Amanda went back to work in the infirmary and Bucky went on missions. Steve went down to DC to spend time with Sharon, tagging along on missions and nut much else. Bucky missed him, but couldn’t begrudge him the time away. He needed to think of himself once in a while and not everyone else.

One day, about two weeks after they’d gotten back, Amanda tracked him down in the gym in the middle of the day, well before she was due to be finished with work. “What’s wrong?” he asked, resetting the weigh bar he’d been lifting. Changes in routine made him understandably nervous.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” She came at him at full speed and flung her arms around him.

He caught her, rocking back a little, laughing at her exuberance. “What is this?”

“I got a call from the FDA,” she said, letting go so she could dance a little. “I got approved. The serum, it’s approved for human testing.” She hugged him again. “The formal letter will come this week and I can start finding candidates.”

Other than their wedding and possibly when she’d told him she was pregnant, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Amanda this happy. “That’s great, ‘Manda.”

She bounced on her toes, as if she couldn’t stay still. “This is happening, James. It’s really, really happening. All my research and work and the set backs and now it’s really happening.”

“Are you excited?” he asked, grinning.

“I’m fucking _terrified_.”

He had to laugh at the sudden look of panic on her face. Drawing her into a hug, he kissed her temple. “You have faced down kidnappers and crazy scientists and an egotistical billionaire and an amnesiac assassin. You can do this.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” she said softly. “What if it hurts instead of helps?”

“It won’t.”

“You can’t know that. _I_ don’t know that.”

He leaned back to look at her, holding her lightly by the shoulders. “I do know it. You know how I know it?” She shook her head. “Because I know _you_. You are brilliant and meticulous and careful. You wouldn’t risk hurting people with a serum that didn’t work.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You saved Steve with it. You’re gonna save other people. Hundreds of them. Thousands. You got this, ‘Manda.”

The panic faded and she gave him a little smile. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

He drew her in for a kiss. “I love you. I believe in you. I can’t wait to watch you save the world.”

*

_Five months later, June, 2017_

For the first time in six weeks Amanda didn’t wake up to a crying baby. Or to JARVIS warning her there was about to be a crying baby. Instead, she woke naturally, to the sun shining in her window, feeling remarkably rested.

The other side of the bed was empty, save for two lazy cats stretched to their full lengths. Amanda ruffled Lady’s stomach fur a bit before sitting up and slipping her glasses on. She needed a shower and a real meal eaten with both hands. First, though, she’d see if James needed a spell from baby duty.

She found him in the other bedroom, standing over the baby pod Stark had made for them. It hovered a few feet above the floor and could rock and vibrate in a variety patterns. It had a little remote that allowed them to call it to their side or have it follow them around the apartment. It was the best cradle on the planet and until Stark figured out how to make it affordable only the baby makers in the Tower would get one.

Crossing the room, she tucked herself at James’s side, looking down at their baby. Edith Eleanor Barnes, named for a first lady and a queen, had been born on a bright April day via c-section after refusing to do so the old fashioned way. She was healthy and plump, with a mop of dark hair and strikingly blue eyes. James had taken to fatherhood with the singleminded determination that he usually reserved for sniping. In the last six weeks he had changed at least as many diapers as she had. He’d figured out bottles and pacis and which blankets worked better for wiping up spit up and which Edie liked to tangle her fingers in while sleeping. He hated letting her out of his sight.

“You know she won’t disappear if you get some sleep,” Amanda said softly.

“I know.” He tucked an arm around her shoulders. “I just. . . I had some dreams and thought looking at her would settle me.”

She rubbed his back gently. “I’m sorry, honey.”

He nodded, still watching the sleeping baby. “I used to tell myself that everything I went through, everything they did to me, that it lead me to you. Being with you didn’t erase it, but it helped. It was the light at the end of the tunnel. But now, with her. . .” He took a deep breath, voice gone rough with emotion. “I’d do it all again, I’d go through it a thousand times, so that she could be born.”

Not sure what to say, she wrapped her other arm around him and held him tightly. “You’re going to be the best father a girl could hope for,” she told him softly.

His arms came around her and he pressed his face into her hair. “I’m going to scare the shit out of her dates.”

Amanda laughed. “Yes. Yes, you will. And you’re going to love every minute of it.”

“I plan to get Steve and Barton to help.”

“Of course.” She leaned back and kissed him. “I wish you hadn’t had to suffer what you did to get here. But I love you. And I love our baby. And I’m so glad we get to be a family.”

He studied her face a moment, then gave a little nod and kissed her. “Me too.”

Above them, JARVIS chimed pleasantly. “Dr. Newbury-Barnes, there is a video chat for you.”

She sighed. For a moment there she’d been contemplating luring James back to bed with the promise of their first post-baby nookie. “From who?”

“One of your study participants, Charles Avignon.”

Frowning in concern, she saw her worry mirrored in James’s face. “Do you have a check-in scheduled?” he asked.

“Not today, no.”

Once her study had been approved she and her techs had spent weeks reviewing volunteer candidates. Their requirements were straightforward. A candidate had to be an adult of sound mind, with a degenerative, incurable disease with a doctor willing to certify they were terminal in six to twenty four months. They had sent study requests to doctors all over the country and received almost two hundred applications. They had whittled those down to twenty. Of those, eight had signed the forty-odd page contract explaining the risks and potential rewards of being a test subject in a study of this kind. Essentially, they had had to sign their lives away, as Amanda couldn’t guarantee the serum would help them. She couldn’t even guarantee it wouldn’t make them worse, something that had sat poorly with her but couldn’t be helped.

After Steve’s coma and booster shot she had decided it was safest to stretch the serum over several injections, like childhood vaccinations. The first doses had been given in April, only a few days before Edith was born. The second had been given three days ago, at the six week mark. Check-in was scheduled for a week later, unless there was an emergency. If Charles was calling in then something was likely wrong.

She gave James a distracted kiss on his cheek and went to her terminal in the living room, stopping in their bedroom to pull a t-shirt on over her pajamas. “Patch it through, JARVIS,” she said, settling in front of the terminal screen.

Charles Avignon had a motor-neuron disease, similar to the one Stephen Hawking suffered from. Charles had been in a wheelchair for five years and fully paralyzed for two. In the six months before joining her study he had begun having difficulty breathing as the paralysis began to effect his lungs. His doctor hadn’t expected him to make it to the end of the calendar year. He had been the first of the study applicants to return his signed form.

Her screen popped on, showing Charles, in his wheelchair, with his sister and caretaker, Kirsten, next to him. Kirsten’s face was red, as if she’d been crying. Amanda’s stomach sank and her veins felt as if she was pumping ice water. But she rallied and managed a smile. “Charles, Kirsten, is everything all right?”

To her surprise, Kirsten smiled and nudged her brother. “Show her.”

Confused, Amanda focused on Charles, about to ask again what was going on, when the paralyzed man lifted the fingers of his left hand and waved at her.

She screamed a little, covering her mouth with a hand. Kirsten laughed, tearing up again. “It began this morning,” she said. “He says he can feel his whole arm, like pins and needles. And look, he can smile.”

Sure enough, the left side of Charles’s mouth was tilted up in a half smile. 

Amanda felt tears in her own eyes as she managed to say, “Charles, I’m so happy for you. Have you spoken to your doctor?”

“I have an appointment this afternoon.” The robotic voice he used to speak sounded tinny over the video chat. “But I wanted you to know first.”

“I’m touched. I’ll contact with him what tests I’d like to see done. But I’m just. . . I’m amazed, I really am.”

“Thank you, Dr. Newbury.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “You’re very, very welcome, Charles.” They said their goodbyes and she turned off the terminal screen. 

James came around the end of the couch, cradling Edie in his metal arm. “Good news?”

The doctor in her made her respond reasonably. “Too soon to know. His doctor will need to run some tests to get new data points. And we’ll have to see if any of the other participants get similar results. But it’s positive.”

He raised a brow. “Positive, huh?”

Oh, just this once, she’d let herself be hopeful. “I think it works.” She stood up, feeling as if she was coming out of her skin. “Jamie, I think it _works_.”

Grinning, he stepped closer and kissed her. “I knew you could do it, Doc.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amanda and Bucky will return in _Heavy Boots of Lead_ , our Age of Ultron adaption, coming August 1st.
> 
> Ahh! I can't believe it's over. I love these two so much and I appreciate all your comments and kudos. I think we're leaving them in a good place, though. For now :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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